


My Sweet Revenge

by Weesageechak



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: A/B/O, Anger, Angst, Asshole Theo, BAMFStiles, Car Sex, Cheating, Cheating Derek, Claiming, Consent Issues, Depression, Grief, Hatesex, Hatred, Knotting, M/M, Manipulative Theo, Pain, Revenge, Sadness, Scent Marking, Scents & Smells, Self-Hatred, Semi-Public Sex, Trauma, claiming bite, hate/love, hurtstiles, post-season/series 5, psycho theo, revengesex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-02
Updated: 2016-08-02
Packaged: 2018-07-28 21:33:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7657519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Weesageechak/pseuds/Weesageechak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles starts banging Theo.<br/>At first it’s because he wants to get back at Derek who a) loathes Theo and b) cheated on Stiles.<br/>Then, gradually, when he realizes that Theo is the only person he can bear having around him, Stiles’ revenge starts turning into something bittersweet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Sweet Revenge

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Cheating Hearts](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4185912) by [RougueShadowWolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RougueShadowWolf/pseuds/RougueShadowWolf). 



> Warning: super-slow build; if you don’t like, don’t read
> 
> Disclaimer, the first: Derek’s repulsion when it comes to anal sex and his homophobic thoughts in part trigger his betrayal and, ergo, the plot – so, they really are rather cheap way of getting the story going; if you cling to your idea of Derek as an inherently good character who is traumatized, but utterly incapable of doing truly bad things – leave NOW! and don’t say I didn’t warn you  
> also: hatred is never cleansing; Derek just wants to believe it is  
> also, the second: if you don't want to read the Derek-cheating part, jump down to Theo's POV
> 
> Disclaimer, the second: this story has nothing educational whatsoever, it’s really celebrating an atmosphere of revenge and features a long row of bad decisions, so er.... enjoy. If you can.
> 
> This fic was inspired by the hurt, BAMF Stiles and delicious revenge of “Cheating Hearts” by RougueShadowWolf - it's different, I daresay, but it was RougueShadowWolf's fic that even gave me the idea - and wish - to write something like this.

 

 

Derek’s POV

 

Derek has been dating Stiles for a little more than three months now. They’re still in that first stage of madly in love, of butterflies in the stomach and passionate making out in the most impossible places because they simply can’t keep their hands off each other. It had been a rocky start, yes – almost two years of _damn that guy’s hot_ and _we’re just buddies_ until they finally confessed their feelings to each other.

Now Stiles is the happiest he’s been in a long time and Derek is –

Reluctant.

Sure, he is happy, Stiles is just – Stiles. Funny, clumsy, flawed and yet beautifully perfect Stiles. It’s just – there is something within his heart about his relationship with Stiles that he can’t make sense of. He wants him so badly, wants his scent and hands all over the tall, pale man Stiles has grown into. At the same time though, Stiles is still a guy and Derek – he’s not into guys.

Don’t get him wrong.

Stiles is the most fascinating person he ever met. Yet, everything that goes beyond kissing or beyond Stiles sucking Derek off is sort of – not his cup of tea, okay?

Stiles keeps wanting to talk about it.

Derek just wants to feel normal from time to time and not deal with the emotional crap and conflicted feelings that come with it all. Shouldn’t dating a dude also mean that he’s done with the psycho-talk and touchy-feely stuff?

At least that’s what Derek thought. Seems like he was mistaken.

He went home with this girl two weeks into his relationship with Stiles, the day after he and Stiles had tried – _it_ for the first time.

 _It_ meaning anal sex.

It had been a complete disaster with Stiles sobbing from pain and frustration and Derek feeling the most uncomfortable he’s ever been in his whole life.

Being tied up and tortured by Kate Argent?

Yeah, Derek wanted to murder that bitch, and the feeling of burning hatred was true, genuine and cleansing.

Trying to shove his dick up Stiles’ ass where, if you ask Derek, dicks are clearly not meant to go?

Oddly nauseating, especially because Derek is still turned on and doesn’t have a fucking clue what to do with it or how to even begin dealing with it.

He picked the chick up at a bar downtown – or rather, she picked him up after he’d been almost out dead, drunk like a sailor, the wolfsbane he’d added to his beer giving it a kind of stale, disgusting taste, and Stiles was – quite frankly, Derek doesn’t even remember where Stiles was supposed to be that evening. She was young and hot and when she started flirting with him, he felt flattered. Exactly what he needed, see?

He fucked her brains out that night, on a dirty couch in a messy apartment she shared with her – er, fellow freshman? Waitress colleague? ... sister?

Anyway, Derek wasn’t surprised at how good it felt. Only thing that surprised him was that he could even get it up after having basically poisoned himself with wolfsbane.

Ah, well.

The things you do to take your fucking mind off of stuff.

He never saw her again even though she basically begged him on her knees to not forget her, that this wasn’t just a fuck for her.

Derek had just nodded to shut her up while being borderline disgusted at how needy she was. Plus, that bitch could never compare to Stiles.

Lindsey is sort of different. She seems to get him and want the same out of it as Derek, that is getting off, preferably with someone hot and ripped.

She gave Derek that look, you know?

Burning with desire, from behind the counter when she sharpied his name onto his Starbucks cup three weeks after Derek’s first little escapade, and when she reached it over for him to take, her fingers – _lingered_.

They started meeting in Derek’s loft because her flat-mate had recently lost his job and was basically home all the time and – she was a noisy bitch in the sack. Derek just felt better with her screaming out his name for only the bare walls to hear, without a third party around giving Derek the feeling that he was being watched and judged.

Lindsey knows he’s in a relationship. She has no illusions as to the piece of shit Derek really is which – it just takes the pressure off, okay? Sometimes, he catches her looking at him when they’re done fucking and he can’t shake the feeling that she’s falling for him – or already has, whatever, but she never brings it up, so it’s not really his problem.

He’s riding her into the mattress right now and she’s clinging to him as if for dear life.

Divine.

She feels divine and there’s nothing she wants from him except for a massive orgasm to make her shout out in ecstasy, throw her head back into the pillows which of course will force Derek to gather long brown hairs from it later with a grimace on his face before compulsively cleaning his whole apartment for an hour until even his werewolf senses cannot detect a trace of her ever having been in here anymore.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Derek mutters, pumping her harder, faster, “You’re so ready for me, baby, so tight...”

 

 

Stiles’ POV

 

Stiles has left his Jeep by the side of the road and is hurrying toward the apartment building, a cardboard holder with two cups of Starbucks in his hands, even though he knows Derek just hates the stuff. Stiles will put them down on the coffee table, and then Derek will give Stiles one of his rants about how Starbucks doesn’t really sell _coffee_ , but muddy water with way too much sugar in it, and Stiles will just stand there, hands in the pockets of his jeans and listen to him with a smile on his face.

The fact that Derek always feels strongly, paired with his tendency to go overboard on little and rather insignificant things is one of the reasons Stiles loves him.

Yes, he can say it to himself now.

Stiles loves Derek.

He realized yesterday evening when Derek tipped his head up to look him in the eyes and then kiss him, just when Stiles had meant to get up and clear the sofa and table of their dirty dishes. The whole evening had just been – it’s exactly what Stiles has always wanted out of a relationship and he feels that at nineteen and done with school he’s grown-up enough to appreciate being together without the teenage urge to fuck 24/7.

This perfect easiness, to be able to be around the other person for hours without feeling stifled.

Simply _getting_ each other, knowing how the other person feels just by glimpsing their expression.

And of course, the fact that Derek doesn’t pressure him, that he likes taking things slow which, yes, may be in part due to his age – he’s six years older than Stiles and when you’ve reached your mid-twenties, you start wanting different things out of life, more permanent things.

Stiles knows that Derek is still damaged, that causing the death of your whole family isn’t something you just get over, but, you know – they’re getting there. It’s not like Stiles is such a whole and happy person, it’s not like he never wakes up screaming in the middle of the night. They can heal each other.

And how he had pulled Stiles close on the sofa that night for no reason, just _because_ , and then slipped his hand into Stiles’ pants and his index finger between Stiles’ butt cheeks, had worked it gently into his hole and they had shared a deep and long kiss while Stiles was getting off on Derek’s finger, rubbing his crotch against Derek’s hip, then coming in his pants while moaning into Derek’s mouth.

Then Derek had smiled and kissed him and told him to drive safely. To let him know as soon as he was home and Stiles – he just _knew_.

The world is wide and open in front of him.

 

 

 

He pushes the button for the elevator, then waits for about ten seconds and decides that he’d rather walk. Stiles’ trademark overflow of energy can get onto Derek’s nerves and Stiles is working out to better contain it, but sometimes – like right now – he’s just too itchy and agitated and all the discipline isn’t doing any good, but –

He’s allowed to be happy and upbeat for once, right?

He aced his final tests, has already been accepted into an A1 college and life’s finally, finally really good, even though Stiles still gets this paranoia at times, this fear that something might happen, that some monster might come crashing into his life and kill everyone he loves, but since being with Derek these gloomy thoughts have become considerably less.

Stiles takes two steps at a time, heavily panting when he’s reached the third floor.

Two more floors to go.

It’s 11 a.m. on a Monday morning.

Stiles should be in school right now – at least that’s where Derek _thinks_ he is.

Derek will not be too happy about Stiles interrupting his work – he’s been freelancing since things have settled down in Beacon Hills, writing articles and stuff – but in the end he will not be able to resist him.

There’s a wide grin on Stiles’ face and a blush on his cheeks. Yeah, true, when they learned that their math teacher had had to go home with a major migraine and their English teacher failed to show up as well and they were simply given the day off because with exams being over no one at school really cared anymore if the seniors were there or not, all Stiles could think of was how much he wanted to feel Derek inside of him.

This is a good day to try again.

A good day to work it out.

On seeing the dirty look that had almost immediately appeared on Stiles’ face, Scott had just sighed and rolled his eyes. His best friend hasn’t really been comfortable with Stiles’ coming out and especially not with the fact that Derek, of all people, would be the person Stiles would choose, and while Scott’s reaction has caused Stiles a great deal of hurt in the past, of guilt and at times anger, today is different.

No bad or painful thoughts will graze his high mood today, no anxiety stifle his spirits.

This is the last week of school – the last week of school for Stiles _ever_ – and he is looking ahead at a beautiful summer.

Not in fear. Not alone.

Together with Derek.

 

 

Stiles doesn’t have a key to Derek’s apartment, but then, when Derek’s home, the front door is never locked, so Stiles just turns the knob and steps in.

“Der?”

So, Derek has a loft.

One of these modern, fancy ones that are basically just one large room with the bed, oddly, in the middle of it. Stiles used to mock Derek for considering it fashionable to live in what is basically a factory hall with a couple of pieces of furniture thrown into it, like dice out of a leather cup.

The thing is this.

When you walk into Derek’s loft, one of the first things you’ll see is the large king-sized bed – _especially_ when there’s movement on it to catch your eye.

That’s the reason nothing inhibits Stiles’ view on the scene on the bed as soon as he has opened the door, let himself in.

Had there been a wall between them, had Derek actually gone for a classic-cut apartment with a separate bedroom, he might have had the time to pick up on the rustle of Stiles’ pants, the shuffle of his sneakers on the hardwood floors – or, you know, his _voice_. He might have had the time to throw the girl off the bed mid-orgasm and hide her in the closet and he’d still have had about five seconds to come up with an explanation as for why he was naked, drenched in sweat and sported a raging hard-on that was slick as if it had just been pulled out of a vagina. Difficult, yes. But not unfathomable.

As it is, Stiles is already staring at him open-mouthed when Derek’s nose picks up his scent and his sex-brain puts the sound he just heard together – someone just said his _name_ – the sound of his own name from Stiles’ lips.

For several seconds Stiles doesn’t comprehend.

Derek’s kneeling on the bed, his back to the door, the muscles moving under the triskele and, from the looks of it, he’s pounding into the body of a beautiful woman who has her long athletic legs wrapped around his waist, the long curls of her brown hair spilling all over the pillows.

It takes Derek about three seconds to turn around – three long seconds during which Stiles just stands there, staring at the love of his life fucking some bitch into the mattress.

Three long seconds during which Derek’s ragged breath and the bitch’s throaty moans rip into Stiles’ world.

Other than that, there is only one other sound in his ears, kind of – a ringing sound, like an alarm clock that went off somewhere in the distance.

He feels like – no.

Words can’t even _begin_ to describe what he _feels_ like.

His head is empty and there’s an odd feeling in his stomach.

Almost like someone just pushed him out of a fifth-floor window – the kind of adrenaline rush you get when the roller coaster drops.

The edges of his vision close in on him and the room blurs in front of his eyes.

His mouth is completely dry.

Comprehension – oh, horrible comprehension dawns on him.

What he sees there in front of him – what he refuses to see but sees nonetheless – is Derek cheating on him.

His heart is racing and he can’t speak, the shock is too big.

For three short and horrible seconds, Stiles has watched him, _understood_ , frozen in place, horrified – but there had been a hint of _disbelief_ in him, you see?

Deep down in Stiles’ heart is the unfaltering trust in his partner, Stiles’ love for him and conviction that, surely, Derek _couldn’t_ – he _never_ would – maybe this is an illusion, maybe someone set this up, maybe some new horror has finally found its way to Beacon Hills again and – can werewolves be possessed by nogitsune?

Oh, God, please, please let it be a trap, _please_ –

And then Derek turns around.

And meets Stiles’ eyes.

And that’s all it takes for Stiles to _know_ that it’s not a trap. Nothing supernatural is involved, no new evil is running havoc in Beacon Hills.

It’s not an illusion.

It’s actually happening and no one ever meant for Stiles to see. It was supposed to remain a secret.

The look of utter horror – shell-shock – on Derek’s face is all Stiles needs to know and, somehow, almost impossibly, this makes things even worse.

As soon as he laid eyes on Stiles, Derek immediately stopped and then they’re just looking at each other for five long seconds, Derek still deep inside the woman who’s only now realizing that something’s not right, going, audibly – and _horribly_ because her tone, the way she speaks with him, it’s so intimate – “Der? Derek, why did you stop? What’s the matter? Is everything alright?”

Then Stiles’ shock starts crumbling away to make room for – to give him the first taste of – a whole new world of pain.

Throbbing and stifling, and now he finds it in himself to move, but he still can’t speak. His eyes are big and full of horror and there’s a slight frown coming on to his brows as if his face meant for him to cry, but then, oddly, his body just wouldn’t.

He dropped the cup holder and coffee is spilling out all over the floor that Derek keeps so neat and clean, and drenching Stiles’ pants and soaking into his shoes, but he doesn’t even realize.

Somehow, strangely, the sound of the cups hitting the floor never reached his ears, they’re still filled with that ringing.

Stiles takes a step back.

Then another.

Mere seconds have passed, but for Stiles, everything is changed.

Nothing will ever be the same again.

His world is in ruins, right there in front of him on the fucking bed he shared with Derek, but he doesn’t even comprehend the extent of it all just yet, he’s so out of it.

Derek has started moving – he has pulled out of the woman and roughly shoves her knees away from his body, his eyes big and still glued to Stiles’ – and he calls out to him, shouts “Stiles!” and that’s the last Stiles sees or hears.

All of a sudden he finds himself outside of the loft, running, running, running.

Down the stairs, out into the open, trying to catch his breath, but it’s no use, his world is closing in on him.

He only remotely acknowledges the fact that he dropped his backpack somewhere – was it in the loft, together with the cups, out in the hallway or on the stairway that looked so different, so utterly and horribly changed when Stiles flew down to the first floor, taking four steps at a time?

He doesn’t even think of getting away from Derek in particular – how could he when his whole heart _screams out_ for him – he doesn’t think anything at all.

Oh, he’s heartbroken, but he doesn’t know yet.

He’s just running.

He passes his Jeep without recognizing it and it doesn’t matter, nothing does.

Then it’s just Stiles, and the feeling of his sneakers connecting with the asphalt again and again and again.

But – _God_.

It hurts.

It hurts, it hurts, it hurts.

 

 

 

Theo’s POV

 

Is it stalking when you casually drive by someone’s house, but they’re not home, and then happen upon the person in some remote area of town where you didn’t expect to find them at all?

At first Theo’s gaze just grazes the lanky young man sitting by the side of the road and he shakes his head at the idiot who’s obviously drunk past noon on a Monday and seems to have a death wish because while his ass is on the sidewalk, his feet are propped up on the street, elbows resting on his knees, head dangling between them.

The cars all circle around him as if to make sure to not hit him, but no one stops, not one of them, and the drivers, they must all be thinking the same.

This is a bad part of town, and it takes a complete fool to pull up to some wasted kid. Usually there’s nothing you could do for them anyway. They’re trash, their brains and faces drained by meth.

Dead at twenty-one.

Theo licks his lips.

He usually comes here to have fun, satisfy his blood lust, because, yes, while no one cares about these people when they’re alive, no one misses them either when they’re dead – or so he thinks – but he’s not in the mood today.

He caught the look on Stiles’ face earlier when they were dismissed for the day because yeah, he keeps watching Stiles, and when he saw his facial expression?

It just sickened him.

Theo had known immediately then where it was that Stiles was going to go and he just needed to get the hell out of there.

The first time Theo had smelled someone – that _guy_ all over Stiles he’d started a fight with him. It had started with him snarling a vague insult in Stiles’ general direction, and ended with Stiles trying to punch him in the face.

Jealousy, yes.

Not that Stiles had ever understood what it had been about. Nor had he realized that Theo had been ready to murder someone that day.

But he’d since learned to control his anger. Antagonizing Stiles is no use and murdering Derek Hale, ripping him apart slowly – just slowly _enough_ to make him _really_ understand that Stiles hadn’t been his to take – well.

That’s always an option, but Theo knows that Stiles would be smart enough to find out.

Then he’d never forgive him and that would ruin Theo’s endgame.

So he has to fucking sit there during their last week of high school, a few seats away from Stiles, and watch those lips part into a mischievous, a deliciously dirty grin – but not for him, fucking never for him.

Theo stares grimly out onto the road through the speckless windshield of his expensive sports that looks so out of place in this run-down neighborhood, trying _not_ to think of what Stiles is doing right now with this piece of werewolf trash.

When Theo has almost reached the kid at the roadside, he thinks that there’s something oddly familiar about him and then, one second later, recognition hits him.

Holy shit.

It’s _Stiles_.

Theo floors the break, ignores the angry honking behind him, and pulls his car to the curb a few feet behind the slumped, motionless figure of Stiles Stilinski.

Then he’s already out of his car and walking in his direction.

“Stiles. Stiles!”

No movement, not even when Theo is right in front of him.

“Stiles, what the fuck are you doing out here, this is a dangerous part of town.”

Bending down, but he can’t look him in the eye, Stiles’ head is drooping low between his sunken shoulders.

“Stiles. Hey!”

Nothing.

“God, you smell like vomit,” Theo says when the biting stench suddenly hits him.

Still, no reaction from Stiles.

Theo has half a mind to just pick him up and bridal carry him over to his car, then dump him in his trunk and have his way with him.

Of course he won’t.

He gets these impulses – urges, really – with Stiles, but has always known better than to act on them.

Still, it’s upsetting.

Something clearly happened to Stiles and Theo – he can feel anger rising in his throat. Depending on what it is, he might have to go on a killing spree today and, oh, it’s calling out to him, the _blood_ of a hundred creatures slaughtered _fast_ , neatly, without even giving their killer a reason for his immense cruelty – but here’s the thing.

Theo cannot detect anything off about Stiles’ scent, he can’t smell anyone but Stiles, no one was close to him within the past hours, not since he left school.

The only emotion about him is just something like – grief.

Bottomless, heart-wrenching grief, an emotion even he, Theo, is vaguely familiar with.

He considers Stiles for another moment, then turns on his heel, walks back over to his car. He opens the passenger side door, takes out the fresh bottle of water he has always stored in there for emergencies, slams the door shut. Locks it, even though he’s only a few feet away.

He might be a deadly predator, but he’s really particular about this car, okay?

Theo unscrews the bottle.

Then he squats next to Stiles, his expensive white sneakers digging into the dirt at the roadside, and simply reaches around Stiles’ knees to hold the bottle up to his face.

“Here. You smell like you’ve been running and are thirsty. Plus, that should help getting rid of the taste of vomit.”

For a few seconds nothing happens.

Then Stiles’ head moves.

He lifts it a little, just an inch or two, then his right arm slides down from his knee and he clutches the bottle.

This is the moment Theo is finally granted a good look at Stiles’ face and –

Hot anger drops into his stomach like a bucket of coals.

Stiles looks like fucking hell and – someone _did_ this.

Theo can easily tell from all the information he gathered so far, from the look of Stiles’ skin that is grey like a sheet, his heart that’s beating far too faintly and his eyes that are veined and red rimmed, his swollen cheeks, still wet from what must have been hours of crying.

 _Someone_ fucking did this and –

Oh.

Oh, he knows who.

There’s only _one_ person who could cause Stiles this kind of torment because from all Theo knows – and he knows a lot about Stiles, keeps monitoring his immediate family – no one died on him, so –

“What did he do?,” Theo simply says. “What did Derek do?”

This changes everything.

The feeling of outrage, of red-hot anger in the pit of Theo’s stomach now mingles with –

A feeling of glee.

Derek screwed up.

He finally did, he went and fucking screwed up his relationship with Stiles.

Exhilaration, yes, but on the surface, his face is smooth and without expression, as always not the slightest hint of his inner turmoil.

And it’s the closest he has ever come to true happiness.

 

 

 

The mask, it never slips.

Never, but Theo is currently experiencing a surprisingly hard time at veiling his true thoughts.

He is steering his sports through the brightly lit afternoon streets. This is still the bad part of Beacon Hills and Stiles is with him, next to him, body limp and head resting against the window, face turned away.

It’s all making sense now, too.

Since he slumped into the passenger seat – voluntarily, yes – Stiles hasn’t spoken a word, but Theo isn’t as dumb as you might think. He doesn’t need a brain like Stiles’ to deduce that Derek finally pulled a number on Stiles – fucked up majorly, somehow – and that Stiles ran from his apartment, from Derek’s loft that is on the outskirts of Beacon Hills, on the edge of the factory district. About three miles from here.

Derek probably broke up with Stiles and Stiles – he must have run here, desperate to get away from Derek fast – and then, when tired out, he just stopped.

Threw up in a trashcan – or simply on the sidewalk, who knows. From anger, from outrage, from grief – from mere bodily exhaustion.

Theo finds himself smiling gently at the street in front of him, at run-down houses flying by.

Yes, that’s so like Stiles.

He would want to ask – he would want to stay and argue.

And maybe he did.

Theo imagines his amber eyes staring at Derek, at this despicable excuse for a werewolf, with horror, his whole face panic-stricken and he’d be yelling at him, needing Derek to explain.

_Why don’t you want me, am I not good enough, etc. etc. etc._

Or whatever their fight was about because, clearly, there had been a fight.

But then, at a certain point, Stiles’ heart would just break – and it did, Theo can _smell_ it on him, such a bittersweet scent – and he wouldn’t be able to take it anymore. And that’s the moment Stiles just set off, wild from heartbreak, devastated, Theo just _knows_ this to be true.

The realization of how deeply he knows Stiles is what caused Theo’s smile. His basic instincts kicking in again is what wipes it away from his face soon after.

Regular humans would not sit there with a wide, completely inappropriate grin on their faces, you see?

They’d show empathy.

So it’s what Theo does.

They’ve been driving in heavy silence for about half an hour when Theo, treading extremely carefully, opens with, “So… I don’t want to further upset you, Stiles, but – I just have to ask – I need to make sure you’re okay...”

It’s not even a complete lie.

Making sure that Stiles is okay is a primal need of Theo’s. He’d rip through the whole fucking world if it meant that _he_ could be the one to put Stiles back together.

“Hey, just – just nod, okay? You don’t even have to speak. Just nod if you need more water. Or – food? I can get you something to-”

“ _Fucking drop the act.”_

Stiles has turned his pale face. He’s looking at Theo now and there is pure, unadulterated hatred in his dark-rimmed eyes.

And he found his words again, finally.

“You don’t fucking _care_ about living breathing things, Theo. Everything with you is just – a fucking struggle for power. Even when all the kids left the playground, you’re still that one delusional little fucker trapped in a solipsistic vision of becoming the alpha – or _something_ – and all you can think of right now is how I would perfectly fit into your grand scheme of world domination.”

“Oh, I have given up on world domination. It’s something much more – basic – that I want now. I turned kinda – Zen, you see?”

“Oh my God, just shut the fuck up. You want something, you went looking for me, you found me and think you’re about to get it and all that’s currently going through that tiny brain of yours is how to get me exactly where you want me. So just – fucking stop playing. I’m sick of it. It’s giving me a major – brain aneurism.”

Now of course the smile is back on Theo’s face. Genuine, too, and he doesn’t even try to hide it anymore either.

Oh, Stiles has always been smarter, yes.

He has never been just a regular human.

The fact that Stiles once again saw right through his mask – something that would anger him, or even threaten him had it been anyone else – somehow, for some reason, gives Theo a feeling of deep satisfaction.

Yes, of course, he can drop the act with Stiles. He can rest, for now.

Be done with the annoying diversions and direct all his senses on what he really wants – what he needs to – no, what he absolutely _must_ know.

“Fine,” Theo says and his voice is dark now. Hoarse.

“So let me ask you one question. You know all this – you know _me_ – and yet. Yet – you got into my car.”

His eyes glowing, but not with supernatural color. They sparkle with anticipation – _alive –_ almost fucking drunk on this very moment.

“Why is that?”

But Stiles just averts his gaze to the window, stares out at rows of houses flicking by and his whole body language speaks of how much he is disgusted with Theo, but when his jaw moves – when he opens his mouth to speak – what he _says_ is –

“...maybe to punish myself.”

And the words are muttered in a way – there’s just the tiniest quiver to them – that Theo knows that only while speaking, Stiles realized that there’s a certain truth to what he just said.

He did get into Theo’s car to punish himself.

He knew Theo could never be up to any good and that’s exactly why he, masochistically, _chose_ to get in with him when Theo offered to drive him home. He knew Theo never would, and that’s the reason Stiles did what he did.

Stiles is feeling reckless.

Oh, this is _beyond fucking perfect_.

Theo is having an almost Stiles-ish moment, he is so agitated he’s almost vibrating out of his skin.

And Stiles is still talking with him.

His eyes flick down at Theo’s right hand on the gear shift that just moved clumsily, so out of character for Theo – almost _jerked_ , kinda – and he sneers at him cheerlessly.

“That exciting, huh?”

Oh, Stiles is so full of pain and poison, it’s delicious.

“To proceed with a plan I’ve had for a while? Yes,” and Theo huffs out a chuckle and shakes his head, surprised at himself almost, “Yes, that is exciting. I believe you of all people know that.”

He tilts his head a little to the right, throws a quick side-glance at Stiles and it’s the way Stiles is working his jaws – the fact that he’s desperately trying to hide just how vulnerable he is right now while having no strength left to struggle – that pushes Theo further in the direction of voicing his true thoughts than he has ever been before.

“...the nogitsune was a master-mind. The evil gambler. Void Stiles? It wasn’t a – _void_ so much as it was a _maze_. A funhouse that this brilliant creature – _you_ – built all on your own, so you of all people should know how – exhilarating – it can feel to watch a scenario you created in your head unfold in reality – and to find that the two are really the same. Isn’t that right, Stiles?”

Stiles, he doesn’t even say, _I’m no longer the nogitsune_ . Or, _that was never me, I never liked the nogitsune,_ _he trapped me and tormented me_ _._ He just keeps staring out the window defiantly.

Theo inhales deeply. His heart is fluttering from telling the truth. It’s oddly exciting.

“So...” Careful now. Tread – carefully. “What... did he do?”

Theo’s tone is casual.

When Stiles doesn’t react, he says with more urgency, “What did Derek do?”

The name seems to shake Stiles out of his trance.

“None of your business...”

A lot less defiant than he evidently meant for it so sound. Stiles is so tired.

“Come on, Stiles. I mean, you can tell me or not, but – what does it matter? I’m gonna find out eventually anyway. You know that. So… what did Derek do?”

Theo can feel a wave of pain wash over Stiles and he is surprised to detect an urge to hug him deep down in the pit of his own stomach. It even grows when Stiles, too exhausted, too sad and broken altogether, simply tells him the truth.

“He cheated on me.”

Theo blinks.

Throws Stiles a look of – yes, surprise.

He has to admit – he did not expect that.

So surprised in fact that he finds himself – for the second time that day – telling the truth.

“But this guy is crazy about you.”

Stiles snorts.

“Yeah, well… obviously not…”

Then, with a barely audible whisper, “He seemed pretty crazy about the bitch he was screwing when I walked in...”

Theo’s mind is going a mile a minute.

This piece of information – it just doesn’t compute.

“This has to be some sort of scam,” he suddenly finds himself saying, “Derek would never cheat on you.”

He knows he sounds bitter. It would be more like him to play along, to mess with Stiles when he’s so vulnerable. But – it’s Stiles.

And Stiles is Theo’s weak spot. So he sighs – and makes a decision.

They’re still in the industrial district of town.

The street is empty.

Theo slows down.

“Why are you turning,” Stiles says, surprised.

“I’m taking you to Derek’s loft. We’re going to find out who or what caused him to act like this.”

His lips widen into a smile.

Look at that.

For the first time in his life, he made a decision not based on selfishness. Ah, the things Stiles’ presence does to him. And he is promptly rewarded because Stiles yells, “No! Don’t you fucking dare! I’m never gonna go back to that place.”

Oh, he’s so upset. His heart is beating loudly – he’s genuinely scared to go back to Derek’s.

Oh, this is perfect.

Theo’s smile widens into a grin. Stiles is glaring at him.

“If you don’t turn around again this instant I’m gonna murder you.”

Theo sighs – and pulls into an empty parking lot to their left. It belongs to an abandoned factory building. They’re passing by the shell of a burned-out truck, and steer around holes in the asphalt. Theo stops the car at the outer end of the lot, far away from any kind of building, let alone people.

He puts the car in park, leans back and sighs.

“Satisfied?”

Stiles doesn’t respond. He’s staring out the window again, as if they were still driving.

Theo turns his head to consider him.

“How can you be so sure that Derek isn’t possessed?”

“...I just know.”

Still not looking at Theo.

“How do you know?”

A simple question. No response.

“Stiles. I know you’re hurt right now – I know you’re in pain. But we have to be sure. It’s about everyone’s safety. Derek’s safety.”

About which Theo really couldn’t care less, but he figures that that’s what a rational and empathetic human being would say.

“I don’t fucking care about Derek,” Stiles mutters.

“Ha,” Theo lets out a soft chuckle, “Oh, Stiles. I can practically _hear_ your heart breaking.”

“He – he did this on his own. Voluntarily. I – saw it in his eyes. I _know_.”

He turns to look at Theo, but when their eyes meet, Theo, oddly, finds himself quickly averting his gaze.

“Just believe me.”

Theo frowns. Puts his head back against the headrest again and thinks.

Yes, this is odd.

Very odd.

He knows Stiles would be the first to check for supernatural interference. No need to be a were if you have Stiles’ brain. Theo completely trusts Stiles’ instincts.

This – this changes everything.

Theo is surprised to find that he’s – angry.

Furious.

“Fucking bastard,” he mutters. “That fucking – I don’t fucking believe it. How could he – he fucking has _you_!”

“Apparently that wasn’t enough,” Stiles says back. Theo’s sudden outburst seems to surprise him.

“I’m gonna strangle him with his own guts, I swear.”

Theo reaches out to start the engine, but Stiles quickly grabs his wrist.

“No! Don’t. I mean – it’s not – just leave it alone. It’s really none of your business.” Then he quickly pulls his hand back again, averts his gaze and Theo – oh, he fucking hates Derek Hale more than he ever has before.

He can sense that Stiles is in love with him, that he would never want Derek to get hurt – not even now. He’s not even really angry yet.

He’s just heartbroken.

And it makes Theo – livid. Oh, he’s so jealous.

“That fucking prick… I don’t fucking believe it...”

And his hands are tied.

There’s nothing he can do to avenge Stiles.

Incredible.

Right now, he can’t even be happy about the fact that this is the end of Stiles and Derek. All he can think of is the image of Derek Hale in a puddle of his own blood and pee and the fact that he isn’t allowed to make it reality. He wants to _kill_.

He’s working his jaws, breathing deeply in and out to calm himself down. Catches Stiles looking at him.

“I told you. I fucking told you he’s no good. You should never have – _never_ -”

“Just drop it,” Stiles says, sounding infinitely tired again.

Then, because he can probably tell that Theo isn’t calming down, “He’s – he’s gonna regret what he did – he probably already does. He’s just – I should have known.”

But he falls silent again.

“You should have known – what? What could possibly justify his behavior now? Mh? I’d love to hear that!”

A shrug from Stiles.

“He’s never been comfortable-”

But he doesn’t finish his sentence. Apparently, he just realized that he’s talking with Theo Raeken – the last person he’d want to give insight into his thoughts and heart.

“Comfortable with what? With you? Oh,” Theo says with wide eyes, “I get it. I think I understand. It’s the gay thing Derek has never been comfortable with. Am I right?”

He can see Stiles blush – he’s mortified and now the smirk is back on Theo’s face. He can feel himself relaxing again, the anger ebbing away slowly, finally.

“So it’s true. Ha,” throwing his head back for a short loud laugh, “Derek is an even bigger idiot than I assumed. Oh, my God. I never got what you see in this asshole.”

“Shut up.”

“Fine. I’m not gonna waste any more thoughts on this bastard. And neither should you. In fact,” smirk deepening, “if anything you should be planning your revenge. I mean – aren’t you even a little bit angry?”

Theo can tell that Stiles isn’t – it’s too fresh, too soon.

First comes heartbreak, then anger.

But maybe – just maybe it’s possible to hasten the process. It would be for Stiles’ best, wouldn’t it? Help him heal.

Nothing is a better remedy for heartbreak than a healthy dose of sweet revenge. Theo always thought so. Not that he would know what heartbreak feels like.

But he assumes.

He may not have a heart, but he has a lively enough imagination.

“I tell you, I’d be fucking livid. In any case,” and he turns to give Stiles a long, good look, “if you ever feel like it, I’m ready to be your rebound guy.”

And, with a mischievous smirk, “… or your revenge-sex guy. Whatever you want. Unless you’re not broken up yet. But I’d say it’s only fair to cheat on a cheater.”

“That’s the dumbest thing I ever heard.”

Theo shrugs.

“The offer stands.”

For a few moments, it’s silent.

Then, Stiles slowly starts with, “You really hate Derek, mh...”

Theo can tell that the name alone makes Stiles’ pain more acute. Sharper. It causes a conflicted feeling in Theo’s chest.

On the one hand, he’s still gleeful because Derek screwed Stiles over majorly and he’s pretty sure Stiles won’t forgive him for that.

On the other hand, he’s fucking angry because Derek screwed _Stiles_ over majorly. That piece of shit.

“I used to hate him. Now I want him to die a slow and painful death.”

Okay, he really wanted that before already, but Stiles doesn’t have to know that.

Theo unbuckles his seat belt and turns to Stiles.

“You know it won’t always hurt like this, right? You do know that there are guys who – who’d appreciate you. Who wouldn’t be disgusted by the idea of having sex with you.”

Stiles’ eyes go wide.

“Right again? Ha, I knew it. Derek really is a piece of trash.”

“Don’t say that he – he’s just – he’s just damaged...”

Theo lets out a laugh.

“No, Stiles. You cannot talk Derek out of this one – and I know you’re starting to get angry. I know that pretty soon you’ll want to see him hurt – just like he hurt you. You’re no goody two-shoes like Scott. _You_ know what revenge is worth. And besides,” with a smug expression on his face, “I’m damaged, too – we both are, Stiles. And _I_ would savor _every second_ of your touch.”

Okay, careful now.

The thought alone is usually already enough to get him really excited, but to speak those words in Stiles’ presence is –

He needs to exert the utmost control so as not to lose himself.

“If you’d let me,” Theo’s voice is raspy, kind of, dark, “I’d fuck you into the mattress all day long. And you’d like it.”

He’s almost panting – almost.

Steady now.

Wait.

Watch the expression on Stiles’ face change. It goes from wide-eyed surprise to an instinctive grimace of disgust – over to a more neutral expression. And then he’s studying Theo.

Watching him back.

He’s thinking.

Theo is holding his breath.

No false step now.

No more words either. Let him consider. And decide. There’s nothing else you can do now.

Then, after a long pause, Stiles says,

“Fine.”

“...fine?”

Theo is actually blinking. It’s currently impossible for him to veil his surprise. Somehow, while hoping for a positive reaction, he nevertheless expected something different. But Stiles reaches down and unbuckles his own seat belt. Then he turns his pale face toward Theo.

Pulls the zipper of his hoodie all the way down to reveal the black t-shirt underneath.

“Fine. Show me what you got.”

To hear the word is almost too much for Theo.

But – no.

Control.

Discipline – or he’ll ruin everything. With Stiles you have to tread so carefully.

It’s the best kind of prey – so hard to catch – but the most divine, the most delicious reward for all of Theo’s troubles.

Everything he did – everything he has ever done – has only been done to get him _here_.

Here, in this car with Stiles, behind tinted glass in an empty parking lot, with only the debris and a couple of pigeons to watch them.

But one wrong step – and everything’s lost forever. Stiles will wake up and Theo will never get a chance again. And then he’ll be forced to take him against his will and – no, Theo doesn’t allow himself to go down that road, not even in his thoughts. He knows there’d be no going back then.

“I’m serious, Stiles. I mean it. But do you? You’re not yourself right now.”

Stiles shrugs.

He’s so pale and his eyes, they’re so empty.

“You said it yourself. It doesn’t even really matter anymore.”

Theo considers him for a moment before speaking.

“Okay. Prove it. You have to come to me – so I know you’re doing it of your own free will.”

This is it.

This is the moment Stiles will start yelling at him, tell him how Theo disgusts him, how he cannot possibly fucking think he, Stiles, would ever come near him, and then command him to drive him home. Or just run away from him.

It’s with this in mind that Theo locked the car door as soon as Stiles got in. Because that would stall him for a few more seconds.

But Stiles – he does none of these things.

Theo is just watching, with his heart beating loudly in his ears, as Stiles sheds his hoodie. Clumsily, almost like he forgot how to move properly.

Then peels out of his shirt.

Theo is glaring down at Stiles’ naked, pale chest, at the dark thin hair on it. The dark happy trail above the rim of his trousers, the dark hair on his arms.

The moles on his upper arms and stomach.

Theo starts sweating.

Good thing he’s frozen because otherwise he’d already be raping Stiles.

Stiles’s eyes never leave Theo’s when he reaches down and unbuttons his pants.

Pushes them down.

Lifts himself from his seat to fully get rid of them.

This can’t be happening.

When Stiles says, “Push your seat back,” his voice is neutral, and so is the expression on his face.

Like he gave up long ago.

Gave himself up.

Like he doesn’t even care anymore if he lives or dies. Like nothing matters to him anymore right now.

“W-what?”

“Push. Your seat back.”

Theo reaches down and clumsily searches for the handle beneath his seat. Finds it, pulls it. Pushes himself all the way back.

Then Stiles is already climbing over the gear shift. Theo can tell that he’s exhausted, that his knees are trembling, but he doesn’t reach out to help him.

Because Stiles – he’s coming to him.

He’s drawing his long legs over and then he’s seating himself on top of him. Stiles is sitting in Theo’s fucking lap.

In his fucking boxer shorts.

This is – holy shit.

And he’s tall – taller than Theo, and his legs don’t really fit onto the seat, but Stiles doesn’t seem to care. He’s looking down at him, the back of his head pressing against the roof of the car. It’s a sports after all, and certainly not made for something like this. The only reason their faces aren’t touching is because Stiles is keeping himself in a really awkward position, hunched over, but head pulled back, as far away from Theo as possible.

“You’re really turned on, aren’t you,” Stiles is saying now.

His voice is so calm, his eyes so dead.

Theo reaches down to open his skinny jeans that are really hurting him. Yes, he’s rock hard, but in his defense, once again: _Stiles is sitting in his fucking lap_.

And it doesn’t stop there either.

Stiles is pushing his hands away now.

He unbuttons Theo’s pants for him, then lifts himself up a little so Theo can push them down over his hips.

Theo is so excited that he almost can’t manage, but Stiles doesn’t give him a break.

He’s already reaching into Theo’s shorts before Theo is even aware that Stiles has brought his full weight back down.

The feeling of Stiles’ cool fingers wrapping around his dick –

Holy mother of Christ.

Theo throws his head back and lets out a moan, he just can’t help it. He’s basically half-gone already and if he didn’t want to be looking at Stiles so desperately, no way he could even keep his eyes open right now.

As it is, he’s staring into Stiles’ eyes, the color of which he can only barely detect now because it’s getting darker outside and the windshield is tinted.

And this – it’s the most helpless Theo has ever felt before, even more than when his own fucking sister dragged him down to hell.

He’s writhing from Stiles’ touch and when Stiles starts moving his hand it’s over after a few more seconds.

Theo lets out a throaty moan that sounds almost like a shriek when he comes all over himself. Stiles doesn’t even care that come is getting everywhere, his stomach and chest, his boxer shorts, the seat and gear shift. He’s just looking down at Theo with this serial killer stare and Theo just knows that this – this is all he ever wanted.

To have Stiles like this, ready for him, so full of self-loathing that he’d jerk Theo off – it’s perfect. And Theo – he’ll get Stiles to do more. He’ll show him what’s possible – how he can make him feel.

He’ll teach him to let go.

What it’s like to be really, truly free.

Theo’s chest is heaving and his penis is twitching from the massive orgasm he just had and he cranes is neck to reach Stiles’ face – his lips – but Stiles quickly averts his face. Grimaces.

And Theo smiles.

Alright then. Too soon.

No kissing yet.

“Condoms?”

“Glove compartment.”

“...of course.”

Oh, Stiles still loathes him. He has always had the best instincts – and then he’s only human, it’s truly amazing.

But it seems like Stiles is feeling reckless.

He doesn’t even ask why Theo has condoms, toys and lube in the compartment of his car.

Because it doesn’t really matter.

Yes, Stiles hates Theo.

But he hates himself more.

“Are you sure?” Theo says when Stiles shoves the condom and tube of lube into his hands.

“You’ll hurt yourself.”

“Just shut up and do it.”

It’s not difficult to put the condom on.

With Stiles still in his lap and moving around to get rid of his boxer shorts Theo is growing hard again.

“Let me,” Theo says because it’s basically impossible for Stiles to fully undress in this position. He already bumped his elbows and knees while trying.

Stiles stops which Theo takes as the permission to wolf out and simply rip his claw through the fabric of Stiles’ shorts. He hastily peels away the shreds and sharply inhales when he flicks his eyes down at Stiles’ limp dick.

Holy shit.

How can one single human be so fucking beautiful.

It’s unreal.

Because Theo isn’t doing anything, Stiles takes the lube from his hands, unscrews it, lets it hover above Theo’s dick and unceremoniously gives it a good squeeze.

“That’s enough,” Theo says because his dick is completely covered in slick now.

Stiles looks down at the transparent gel.

“No peppermint?,” he says, but he isn’t smiling.

“No,” Theo says back. “I wanted to be able to smell only you.”

Stiles stares at him, but he doesn’t make a comment on how Theo had very obviously wanted _this_ – with him, with Stiles – and had planned for it, for a long time. Or on how he, Stiles, never really expected that.

He pushes himself up and then forward, positioning himself awkwardly above Theo. Stiles’ head is next to his now. There really isn’t much room in here – but enough because of course Theo had thought of this when he bought the car.

He never really believed it would happen in here – especially not like this – but better safe than sorry, right?

“I’m serious, Stiles. You’re going to hurt yourself. Like that it’s going to be really painful for you.”

Theo has grabbed Stiles’ hips to stop him. His skin is smooth and warm to the touch.

“I don’t fucking care.”

“But I do. So hold still.”

He pulls Stiles close – hugs him, basically – and holds him firmly in place with one hand while reaching around him with the other, slipping his index finger carefully between Stiles’ cheeks. It’s slick and goes in smoothly – everything is slick, Stiles really overdid it with the lube.

“I see,” Theo says against Stiles’ chest – oh, Stiles smells _divine_ , “you prepared yourself. But that was hours ago.”

Stiles shifts in his arm, trying to get away from him.

“Stop that,” he mutters. “Don’t do that.”

He manages to grab Theo’s arm and pull it away. His finger slides out of Stiles’ butt and Theo, albeit very reluctantly, releases him.

When Stiles pulls back, there are tears in his eyes and on his cheeks. He looks angry and so, so hurt.

“So painful?” Theo says and lifts his eyebrows, but Stiles doesn’t respond.

“Ah, I get it… is that what Derek does – what he used to do to you?”

“Shut up.”

“So you used to get off on his finger because he was too weirded out to actually stick his dick in you. I see...”

Suddenly Stiles’ hand is around Theo’s throat and he’s squeezing the air out of him.

He really means it, too. Doesn’t even try to be gentle, you know, like a warning. He wants to hurt him. And he wants to hurt himself.

“ _Shut._ _The fuck._ _Up_.”

“Okay,” Theo forces out and Stiles removes his hand.

For a moment, Theo expects him to back out of the whole situation.

But he doesn’t.

Quite the contrary.

Theo seems to have spurred something deep inside of him – his anger – and it seems to help Stiles pull through with it.

He grabs Theo’s dick and lowers himself down onto it. Theo doesn’t even have the time to hold his hips to steady him, but then, Stiles doesn’t need any help.

He’s determined.

He’s determined and he’s still crying, Theo can feel it, can smell the salty liquid on his cheeks even though he can’t see his face, not in this position.

Curse this stupid fucking car.

Stiles suppresses a yell of pain when Theo completely vanishes inside of him and bottoms out and Theo – his eyes roll back in his head and his whole body goes limp.

This is better than he ever imagined.

There’s a sob from Stiles – difficult to say whether it’s from grief or physical pain, he smells like both – and he grits out, “Now, do you wanna fuck me or not?”

This gets Theo out of his trance. He grips Stiles’ hips firmly and starts moving.

It’s not easy, it really isn’t. Stiles scent is all around him and he’s sweating and in so much pain, body and heart, and Theo is truly struggling to stay in control. Reminding himself that Stiles is human and that, if he were to really let go, he’d probably kill him.

Stiles would bleed out all over him and the thing is this.

From the way Stiles is rocking up and down on Theo’s lap, burying Theo deep inside of him again and again and again, Theo can tell that Stiles wouldn’t even mind.

He doesn’t even care how much he’s getting hurt, so Theo has to make sure – he has to be careful.

But, _God_.

It’s not easy.

He’s so turned on, so fucking gone that all he can really do is trying hard to move as little as possible while Stiles works himself up and down on his dick.

What’s more is that Theo can tell that Stiles is getting turned on. The fact that he can control his own movement seems to do something for him.

The fingers of Stiles’ left hand curl into Theo’s shoulder – into his sweater because none of them bothered to undress Theo and his shirt is sticking to his body because he’s practically drenched in his own sweat – and Stiles’ right is wrapping around his own dick.

“ _God_ ,” Theo grits out. “Oh, God, Stiles...”

Apparently, Stiles really wants him to shut up because suddenly his tongue is in Theo’s mouth and then he’s kissing him roughly, only moving back and forth now because in this position, there’s really no room for anything else.

Theo’s mind is a total blank.

Stiles is fucking him hard and he’s panting and moaning into his mouth. He’s turned on and he wants to come.

And he wants it to be painful. He wants to feel the hurt, drown out his heartbreak.

Theo gets it now and he starts moving. His grip on Stiles’ hips is firm and relentless and will leave bruises behind and he’s jerking his hips up into Stiles whose moans have turned into pained yelps.

Just like he wants it.

And Stiles – he’s so close now.

Theo can feel it build inside of him. It’s bittersweet ecstasy and Stiles really, _really_ wants it. He pulls his mouth back because he desperately needs to breathe and Theo holds him tight.

Stiles is trembling in his arms.

“Yes...,” he gasps out, apparently unaware of the fact that he’s even speaking, “Deeper, _please_ ….”

Theo doesn’t respond – he really can’t – but he lets loose. Takes Stiles as hard as he wants to – as hard as he can in this position. He doesn’t think. All there is is Stiles.

Stiles’ scent, Stiles’ skin, Stiles being tight and slick and hot around him.

Stiles trembling, moaning out a long, low, “Aaaah...” and then coming, his dick being rubbed up and down between his own sweaty stomach and Theo’s sweater until it twitches and vibrates and that’s the moment Theo can’t go on anymore either.

Stiles is riding out his orgasm and he’s hugging Theo back now, inhaling his scent and holding him close and then he’s spent and his movement ebbs away.

Then he’s only crying.

He doesn’t make a single sound, but he’s shaking and Theo just holds him. Stiles doesn’t even try to move away, Theo’s dick is still deep inside of him and like this, he knows he’ll be hard again in no time.

But for now, Theo doesn’t even waste a single thought on the future. He’s just here in the present.

With Stiles.

Enjoying the aftermath of his orgasm and Stiles’ sweet tears.

And he has it bad, Stiles.

He can’t seem to calm down, not even after a long time.

There’s a grim look on Theo’s face. Stiles is almost broken.

But it won’t happen again.

Not ever.

Bad enough that Theo allowed anyone to hurt him like this already, but he’d never have thought – he never expected Derek to do something like _this_.

But never again.

“Don’t stop now,” Theo whispers when Stiles finally takes a deep breath. His sobs come more irregularly now.

“Don’t stop like this,” and what he means, of course, is that Stiles needs another memory of this, of himself and Theo, than the painful – wonderful – hate-induced fuck they just had.

Theo starts rocking his hips slowly and even though he can tell that nothing seems further away from Stiles right now than getting turned on again, he lets it happen.

It’s a soothing motion, almost.

Like rocking a baby.

Ha – only different of course.

And Theo – he can be gentle, yes?

After a while he’s touching his fingertips to Stiles’ dick – to let him know what he’s about to do, give him the chance to pull away.

But he doesn’t, so Theo wraps his whole hand around it and, with the other, starts rubbing circles into Stiles’ naked, sweaty back.

“… is it okay if I scent-mark you?”

“...do what you want.”

His voice is so faint, his head resting on Theo’s shoulder, against his cheek.

“...everyone will know.”

“…I don’t care.”

Theo’s strokes are firmer now and, finally, Stiles’ dick is doing something. He’s growing hard again because scent-marking – it’s something sexual.

The way Theo is doing it right now – it’s the only way it really works, the only way the scent would really stick.

And even humans can feel it, the deep, sexual meaning of it.

“He never marked you… did he?”

“...no.”

“It’s fine,” Theo forces out, chest heaving again.

God, this is so good. Stiles is so good.

“You’re mine – for the moment. Ah...”

Speaking is growing difficult again, the slow, regular movement almost painful, the urge to relentlessly slam into Stiles again so strong.

But he won’t.

He came twice already.

He can arrange for his third time to be gentle and sweet. He’ll show Stiles just how careful he can be.

How good for him.

This time, Stiles barely moves.

His muscles flex – his legs are probably almost numb from his awkward position – while the arousal slowly builds in the pit of Stiles’ stomach.

Theo lets the hand on Stiles’ back grow into a claw. It’s the only way it’s gonna work, the only way he’ll be able to push Stiles over the edge now because he’s so exhausted, infinitely sad and tired.

Anger mixes well with arousal.

Sadness really doesn’t.

So Theo cups his claw around Stiles’ neck. The tips of his nails are sharper than a werewolf’s – he’s half were- _cat_ after all – more like blades and they press gently into Stiles’ jugular. Just strong enough to make clear that he’s at Theo’s mercy now.

That Theo could rip Stiles’ throat out with one swift and simple movement.

“Submit,” he grits out – snarls. “Sub...mit… to me...”

And Stiles relaxes his shoulders. Accepts it.

And rolls his head to the right.

So Theo can grip his throat even better, can close his claw around it more firmly.

It’s almost too much.

Theo lets out a long snarl and can just barely keep himself from wolfing out. It wouldn’t be good. He’d come and knot Stiles and that would definitely hurt him a great deal and he’s already badly bruised as it is.

The thing is this.

It seems to turn Stiles on – and the kind of arousal Theo can smell on him now is different from the anger-induced revenge-sex they had ten minutes ago.

It’s a primal need to be submitted and taken hard and it makes Theo almost feral.

He knew it.

He knew that deep down, Stiles has always craved that. And Derek has always been too much of a self-absorbed idiot to really get it.

This time is different.

Theo slowly rocks Stiles into his orgasm – but what really tips him over the edge is when Theo closes his claw around Stiles’ neck a little more, just enough to be painful and make breathing a little more difficult for him.

Just enough to really subject him and the fact that this would even work shows just how special Stiles is.

That he, as a mere human, would be able to flow along with something so deeply ingrained in the nature of a werewolf.

Stiles’ breath is coming flat and fast now, and then he starts shaking.

Theo is still holding him close, locked in his embrace and claws, forbidding himself to come. Stiles’ orgasm is different now, too.

It’s because of what they’re doing.

Because of the scent-marking thing. Because Theo just all but claimed him.

It’s long and sweet and when it’s over, Stiles is completely spent. He’s so weak, even his breath seems faint and distant.

It’s only then that Theo allows himself to come, quick and hard and without moving too much anymore. This time wasn’t about him after all.

It was all about Stiles – the way it really should be.

Then Stiles pulls himself up, finally. That is – he tries, but is really too weak to do much, so Theo practically manhandles him back into the passenger seat and it’s only when he has pulled up and buttoned his own pants and started the engine that Stiles starts putting his clothes back on.

It’s dark outside now.

The interior of the car is sticky and the air smells like sex. Theo turns the heat on. He can tell that Stiles is cold.

Cold and empty.

Frozen on the inside, yes, but.

Theo knows that the pain is already better than it was hours ago. More bearable. Stiles needs to be alone now.

So the healing can start.

It will be a long and very slow process, but he doesn’t doubt that Stiles will be fine again eventually. And then, it will be like Derek never hurt him.

Theo will make it happen.

He steers the car through dark streets, only stopping to get Stiles a large curly fries, even though Stiles just shakes his head.

“Eat it later,” Theo says gently. “But you need to eat.”

Then he drops Stiles off at his place.

 

 

 

When Stiles walks out of the house the next morning, his Jeep is in the drive way.

He knows that it wasn’t Derek who put it there.

 

 

 

 

“Did you put my backpack in the Jeep?”

Theo slams his locker shut this Tuesday morning and is met with Stiles’ pale face, his cold eyes.

They’re in the first floor hallway of Beacon Hills High and Stiles looks sobered, but Theo can still sense faint waves of hurt radiating off of him – and knows that it’s gonna be like this for a while.

Heartbreak doesn’t disappear overnight, grief doesn’t just evaporate.

But it’s fine.

Theo likes him like this.

He smirks and can just barely keep himself from reminding Stiles of the time they spent in Theo’s car the day before. From telling Stiles that having it cleaned will probably cost Theo a fortune.

Not that he cares.

Money he’s always had, never really cared about.

Everything he needs – all he ever wanted – is there, right in front of him, and it’s glaring at him with suspicion in large amber eyes.

“So?”

“Yes,” Theo simply says back. He shoulders his backpack. Knows he needs to play it slow now. Be the opposite of clingy, of needy.

So, do the opposite of what he really wants to do.

“Yes?” Stiles spits out, and his face darkens. “What do you mean, yes? Where did you get it?”

Theo started walking, but he stops now and faces Stiles.

“Got it out of Derek’s loft,” he says in a low voice. He knows Stiles wouldn’t want anyone to overhear. He can see Stiles’ face turn a little more ashen.

“Don’t worry. I didn’t do anything to him. He wasn’t there.”

“…. I don’t care – if you do anything to him,” Stiles says after a short pause.

Theo considers him for a moment.

Good.

He’s making progress.

From the looks of it, Stiles has reached anger now. Defiance.

That’s good.

“Did you even sleep at all?”

Theo starts walking again.

It’s the Tuesday of their last week in school. No teacher really cares where they are. Most of the other seniors are probably hanging in their seats with major hangovers anyway. The party already started on the day of their last exam. So – weeks ago. Even prom is over.

That long, painful evening during which Theo and Stiles were the only ones without a partner. Theo because the only partner he’d really wanted had been Stiles, and he never really cared for anyone else, not for a single one of all the girls who had asked him.

And Stiles because – well.

He’d refused to say anything, but Theo knows now.

The reason Stiles had been alone that day had been Derek refusing to accompany Stiles. Mortified to make a high school prom his coming-out party. Which, of course, explained why Stiles had smelled like sadness the whole night.

Man.

Someone really needs to blow Derek Hale’s lights out.

Theo smirks.

But it won’t be him.

He doesn’t have the time to slowly torture Derek Hale to death. Knows better than that, too.

He’s dedicating his all to a much more important project now. The only one he ever really cared about.

They’re at the door to the English classroom now. Stiles never answered his question – but then, Theo knows that Stiles didn’t really sleep. It’s easy to tell.

The only real question is why he’s even here today – smelling like Theo, too. And not only smelling like him – Scott will be able to tell that Theo scent-marked his best friend.

During sex.

This knowledge puts an additional sweet edge to the overall deliciousness of this situation.

“Since you want to know, but don’t want to ask…,” he says to Stiles before pulling the door open, “the backpack was exactly where you dropped it, right next to the door. The bed was unmade, I could smell – _both_ of them on there. Him – _and_ her. Derek hasn’t been in there for hours – he must have left almost directly after you.”

Then he walks into the room, knowing better than to watch Stiles’ face. He can tell what his words do to him anyway.

But Stiles, he needed to know.

Theo will not lie to him anymore. At least – he’ll try. And not about something as important as this anyway.

 

 

Scott isn’t there and neither is anyone else who could smell on Stiles what he did yesterday – and with whom.

Ah, well.

Too bad – but you can’t have everything, right?

So it’s just the two of them.

And a couple of other kids who don’t matter.

Theo never even bothered to learn their names, even though a couple of the girls – they really tried to get him to remember their stupid faces.

Their English teacher walks in, puts on a movie and walks out again. After that, three people sneak out, so it’s only three guys, four girls – and Theo and Stiles.

They’ll graduate on Friday – their ceremony will start early Friday afternoon and last night, when Theo got Stiles’ Jeep and backpack, he made a decision.

He’s going to be the one waiting with Stiles’ dad for Stiles to step down from the stage after the principal called his name. He’ll even bear Scott. If it means that he can have Stiles, Theo will put up with Scott for all eternity, if he has to.

Yes, sure, it’s gonna be his own graduation, too – but, really, who cares?

And he’s gonna be the one to make Stiles feel safe during the party later that evening. He’s going to stay in the background, watching out for him while Stiles is getting dead drunk with the other seniors. And then he’d going to be the one driving him home – and shaking Stiles’ dad’s hand when handing him over.

He’s going to be the one who’ll get that stern look from the sheriff weeks later, and a menacing, “If you hurt my son, I’m gonna shoot you.”

He’ll work toward it. He got into the same college as Stiles – he made sure of that – and he’s gonna be the one who’ll give sheriff Stilinski _that_ _nod_.

_Don’t worry, Sir, I would never hurt your son._

He’s going to be the one who will take Stiles away to L.A. in his car after promising his dad that he’ll do everything he can to keep Stiles safe.

Theo will work hard to get this and he’s ready to personally murder everyone trying to take it away from him. Malia, Derek crawling back to Stiles, Liam, even Scott – he doesn’t care.

No one will come between him and the bundle of hurt and sadness that is Stiles Stilinski, and when Stiles will finally smile again – it’s going to be for him, and for him only.

Theo will make sure of that.

 

 

 

Who would have thought that Derek Hale was going to keep playing his part in Theo’s perfect little plan?

Theo had had trouble to keep his own hands off of himself last night. The mere memory of Stiles on top of him – the flesh memory of Stiles skin against his thighs, of Stiles around his dick – just wouldn’t let him sleep. This had been the whole reason for Theo to go back to Derek’s loft early this Tuesday morning – he had gotten Stiles’ Jeep hours before that – to find the place deserted and discover Stiles’ backpack next to the door.

He had meant to spy on Derek a little – not hurt him, Stiles wouldn’t want that – but to savor Derek’s pain and self-hatred from a distance. In the end, however, it’s a good thing Derek hadn’t been there. Quite frankly, Theo would probably have tried to kill him, all good intentions notwithstanding.

The thing is, he really didn’t expect Derek Hale to show up in front of the school that Tuesday. The seniors had been dismissed again early, even before lunch – but Derek couldn’t have known that. So he must have waited in his stupid black Camaro all morning for Stiles to finally emerge from the building.

He’s just getting out of his car when Theo spots him. Stiles must have seen him, too, because he’s walking faster. Theo is a few steps behind him and he can see Stiles’ shoulders tense when Derek calls out to him.

Making sure that Stiles really hears him.

Tssss.

Idiot.

Sneaking up on Stiles would have been the smarter move, but – it’s Derek Hale. What do you expect?

Theo acknowledges with a smirk how Stiles, with every fiber of his being, wishes Derek to be gone. But he, Theo, won’t interfere.

It wouldn’t be wise.

Stiles would quickly project his anger at Derek onto Theo.

No, let them meet – and fight. He’ll be silently waiting in the background.

Derek is walking up to Stiles fast, his eyes glued to Stiles’ pale face. He’s so absorbed with him that he doesn’t even see Theo there, only a couple of feet behind Stiles.

All the better for Theo.

Derek looks like hell, worse than Theo ever saw him and seeing – _sensing_ – just how much pain he caused his boyfriend seems to give him the rest.

Theo can see that he’s been crying and he cannot suppress a satisfied grin.

Oh, this is going to be good.

And because Stiles is giving Derek a look full of hatred now, Theo doesn’t even feel like ripping Derek’s entrails out.

Stiles’ anger, heartbreak and disgust is more torture on Derek than anything Theo could ever do. And he can sense that Derek is heartbroken, too.

Interesting.

Who would have thought.

Theo is intrigued, yes.

So, Derek _does_ love Stiles.

Then why on earth would he cheat on him?

“Stiles,” Derek says and when Stiles doesn’t stop, he reaches out and simply grabs his arm, pulls him back and Theo – oh, he has to struggle to hold back from wolfing out and hurling himself at Derek. Or, you know, simply slashing his claw clean through Derek’s arm and separating it from his body. Would be a most effective way to make him let go of Stiles.

But he can’t.

He has to keep telling himself that this _has_ to happen. That he cannot interfere now, even though seeing the beta’s hand on Stiles – and forcing Stiles to stay, too, hurting him – makes red-hot anger pool in Theo’s stomach. Gone is his satisfied smirk.

But, no.

You have to hold back now.

“Don’t you fucking touch me,” Stiles grits out. He exudes pain, hate – and longing.

For Derek.

“...ever again. We’re done. Forever.”

Oh, Derek’s face.

Who’d have thought that he could look even more pained.

And then it hits him – _Theo’s scent_.

It’s only now that he picks up what Stiles actually _smells_ like, the beta is so out of it. The lack of sleep, the self-loathing – Theo can tell that his senses are dulled, his whole body numbed.

It would be so easy to kill him now.

But this is even better.

Derek’s grip tightening on Stiles’ arm. The murderous look on his face.

“What is that smell?”

His voice is so cold and barely audible. He’s staring at his boyfriend – ex-boyfriend – shell-shocked.

“None of your business.”

Oh, Stiles.

Even now he can’t really hurt Derek. It’s primal instinct. He still loves him, of course he does.

That’s what love means.

It doesn’t just go away when someone cheats on you.

Ah, that’s the beauty of it.

It’s the reason people can forgive, no matter how much they’ve been hurt.

But Stiles – he won’t forgive. Nor will he be forgiven.

Theo made sure of that.

“You smell like -,” Derek is saying presently – and then his head snaps up. His eyes find Theo.

Theo makes sure to put on his smuggest face. His most nonchalant smile.

He puts his hands in the pockets of his skinny jeans and looks back at Derek.

Not necessary to say anything.

Derek’s eyes find Stiles’ face again, and he lets go of him. He looks like Stiles’ burned him with a hot iron. Never has Theo seen anyone so shocked – not even his own sister had had this look on her face when Theo pushed her into the dark pond.

Because she always knew – she had always known what he was.

But Derek – he never suspected Stiles to react like this, to go out and fuck someone else. Derek never expected him to do anything as reckless and vile as this, not even after what he, Derek, had done to him. And that’s exactly why he never really knew Stiles in the first place.

Not like Theo knows him, obviously.

“He scent-marked you,” Derek whispers and, really, it’s surprising that he can even speak. People around them have stopped and they’re whispering and pointing. It’s kind of obvious that this is a relationship drama – judging from how both Derek and Stiles look like something chewed them up and spit them out again. From the hurt on both their faces.

And, well, also from what Stiles says next.

“If you have to know – he didn’t just scent-mark me – something you never wanted to do anyway.” Stiles’ voice is pure venom. “I also let him fuck me,” and he steps up to Derek, “long and good. Since you’re not interested anymore.”

Well, that did it.

Derek is speechless.

Theo closes his eyes to fully savor the turmoil of feelings in Derek’s chest – pain, heartbreak, anger and shock. So much shock.

When he opens them again, Derek has almost reached him, but Theo knew that of course. Heard him coming.

It’s easy to defeat Derek. He’s not himself, and not even a little bit focused. But then, he is attacking to kill, so Theo really has to make an effort to avoid his claws.

He swore to himself that he wouldn’t do anything to Derek with Stiles present, and it’s not even difficult. He’d only do him a favor if he knocked him out.

No, he won’t relieve Derek of his pain.

He did this – he deserves this.

Derek doesn’t even care that there’s people everywhere. Luckily, Liam and Mason appear out of nowhere – and it’s mostly Liam who wrestles Derek to the ground, so all anyone could have seen would have been Derek’s eyes glowing blue – and, you know. Might have been an optical illusion.

Derek is still staring at Theo, panting, snarling, and Stiles – he steps up to Theo and, for the second time in twenty-four hours, truly surprises him.

He takes his hand.

Slides his long, cool fingers into Theo’s fist who immediately closes it. Holds him.

“You wanted this,” Stiles says to Derek. It’s said in a low voice, but Derek and Liam can hear him of course and both look similarly shell-shocked. Mason of course is quick enough to gather what’s going on without hearing, so the look on his face comes close to Liam’s.

“And I won’t stop. I loved you – you know that? I really, truly did. But I won’t stop. I’ll go with _him_ – and I’ll keep going with him. And there’s nothing you can do.”

And with these words he turns around. Storms off, pulling Theo with him.

Stiles only slows down when they’re out of sight and earshot. They’re almost at Stiles’ Jeep and Stiles –

He’s not okay.

Theo can sense his anger ebbing away and all of his strength leaving him. Can feel Stiles’ heart sink and he immediately reacts. His hands shoot out and grab Stiles’ shoulders. Stiles is swaying. His knees won’t support him anymore, his eyes are half-closed.

“Hey, easy,” Theo says gently, but Stiles shakes his head.

“Need to – get away – quick...”

“You can’t drive like this.”

Stiles has sunk to the ground. The only thing that kept him from colliding with the gravel is Theo’s arms that wrapped around his upper body.

“My car is over there. I’ll take you home, but first – you really need to eat. You need to calm down and then eat. Come on. He’s not worth it.”

“I loved him,” Stiles whispers. Tears are streaming down his cheeks.

He won’t be ready to get up again for a while, he’s shaking so violently.

So there’s only one solution – because Derek might still catch up with them and Theo doesn’t have time for that now.

Stiles is as pale as death as Theo bridal-carries him across the parking lot.

He ignores the girls at the car next to them who get googly eyes when they see Theo lowering Stiles onto the back seat of his car.

Good thing he took a different car today.

This one’s a real family car and the cause of the only moment of joviality Theo has shared with another person in ages. The salesman had handed him the keys with the sentence, “Your intended is going to love it,” and Theo – he had smiled.

And nodded.

Ah, the things Stiles is doing to him.

He is making him human, almost.

 

 

Then they’re in some parking lot, food places all around them.

Theo has stopped the engine, gotten out and pulled the door behind the driver’s seat open to let Stiles out.

He has sat up, Stiles. He looks groggy and teary-eyed.

“Are you feeling okay enough to walk? You don’t have to, I can get you something. We can eat in the car.”

He considers Stiles for a moment.

“I can also get you something and drop you off at your house. If you’d rather I do that.”

Stiles blinks.

Then, absolutely fucking incredibly, he reaches out and fists his hand into Theo’s shirt. Then he pulls him close.

Their lips meet.

Stiles is kissing him hungrily and if anyone could see them right now, they’d probably crack up at how odd a scene this is because Theo is frowning.

“Stiles,” he says, pushing the other gently away from him. “Not that I don’t want this, but – you really shouldn’t. You’re going to regret this.”

Stiles’ look changes from half-asleep and dizzy to cold. Calculating.

“I thought you didn’t care about being the rebound guy?”

Theo gives him a wide grin.

“I don’t.”

“Okay then.”

Stiles’ hand is still grabbing the fabric of Theo’s shirt, tugging at it. Motioning him to come close.

“Ha, you really hate me, don’t you? Kissing me is the punishment of your choice?”

Stiles has scooted to the edge of the seat and is pulling Theo in. Their lips almost meet a second time. Theo can feel Stiles’ breath on his face when he says, “I guess that’s an adequate way to put it.”

“Perfect,” Theo whispers, licking over Stiles’ lower lip.

Then Stiles’ hand is in his neck and he pulls his head close for the roughest kiss yet.

Five minutes later they’re sitting at a table in the diner, all behaved and civil again.

Stiles is staring down at the menu, shoulders slouching – it’s really an up and down with him today – and Theo is watching him, arms crossed in front of his chest, a smile on his face.

“Stop that,” Stiles mutters.

“What?”

“Staring at me like that.”

“Hey, being your rebound-and-revenge toy includes me being able to look at you, doesn’t it?”

“No.”

Theo sighs and shrugs – and averts his gaze.

“Alright. Whatever you want.”

“I certainly don’t want the ‘Daily Broccoli’,” Stiles says with a disgusted look at the menu. “What kind of a place is this?”

“A healthy place. You need something that’s good for you now.”

“And why again didn’t you take me to Five Guys?”

“Because you need vegetables. Not bacon. And it’s my treat. Order whatever you want.”

Stiles glares at him darkly – but he does order the Mediterranean pasta with organic vegetables. Then he just sits there in gloomy silence.

Theo doesn’t even try to strike up a conversation. Besides, there’s no such thing as an awkward silence with Stiles. Theo enjoys just being close to him, and he knows Stiles will let him know when he’s ready to talk again.

They’re almost done with their pasta when Stiles says, “My dad doesn’t know.”

Theo waits a few seconds so as not to seem too nosy and then responds, “You didn’t see him yesterday?”

Stiles shakes his head.

“You do not have to tell him if you don’t feel like it.”

A frown appears on Stiles’ forehead.

“He’ll ask questions when he,” but he trails off. Continues chewing his pasta.

“...when he – sees you like this?”

A nod from Stiles.

“But it’s not uncommon to be down after a break up,” Theo says. Then he he adds, softly, “To be – heartbroken.”

“You don’t understand. He’ll want to know – everything. He never liked that I dated – _him_ in the first place and – it’s just right to tell him everything. He doesn’t deserve me keeping even more things from him. But I – I just don’t want to talk with him – about any of it….”

Theo considers Stiles for a moment. Then he puts down his fork.

“Stiles,” he starts and pauses.

The pauses, you see, are crucial.

Stiles looks up. Meets Theo’s eyes.

“No one has the right to force answers from you right now. Do you understand?”

Theo lets out a gentle laugh.

“I mean, it’s amazing. Even now, the only thing you’re really thinking of is the well-being of other people. Even _his_.”

Meaning Derek, but his name will not be spoken in Stiles’ presence.

“I loved him,” Stiles says with bitterness.

“And you still do,” Theo simply says back. “And you will for some time, I guess. Stiles, that’s what makes you so – special. What makes you _you_. But you have to take care of yourself first now.”

“I don’t fucking care about myself,” Stiles says and he puts his fork down as well. At least he ate almost all the noodles and most of the vegetables. He must have been really hungry.

No surprise there. He probably hasn’t eaten anything in the last twenty-four hours.

“Okay, I get that. But _I_ care about you. I won’t let you hurt yourself.”

Ah, there again.

Honesty.

Theo can’t help it, he smiles about himself. He can be such a dork.

“You already did,” Stiles says and the look he’s giving Theo now is spiteful but it doesn’t wipe the smile from Theo’s face.

“Well, as you could probably tell, _that_ I agree with,” grin widening, “I even like it.”

“Figured,” Stiles says, averting his gaze to his plate, but not picking up his fork again.

Then Theo drops a few bills onto the table. He leaves a generous tip as always – he’s a sociopathic were-coyote, not a monster – and walks Stiles out to the car in silence.

Nothing else happens between them that day. Theo drops Stiles off, then he drives back to school to get the Jeep – only to find that it’s gone.

He knows who took it of course.

Theo is staring at the empty spot, his senses searching, trying to pick up the scent.

But then he relaxes.

Mason.

He was here only a minute ago.

Using his lunch break to get the Jeep to Stiles’ house. Liam is probably following with someone’s car to take them both back to school within the hour.

They are probably in front of Stiles’ house right now.

And of course, how could it be otherwise. Derek is currently too out of it to do anything as considerate as driving Stiles’ Jeep home.

Ha.

He probably couldn’t bear having Stiles’ scent around him anyway – smelling him, but not having him, never having him again.

 

 

 

On Wednesday nothing happens. Nothing major, that is.

Stiles is unchanged.

His face is greyish now, the rims below his eyes dark and deep. He smells so much like sadness that Scott holds his breath for a moment when he enters the classroom.

Then he’s with his best friend and Theo leans back in his chair, grimacing. He can tell from the way Stiles pulls his shoulders up to his ears that he doesn’t want to talk.

At all.

Scott must have heard from Liam and Mason what happened, must have guessed that Derek and Stiles broke up, that Derek did something to Stiles and then Stiles hooked up with Theo, but he clearly doesn’t seem to know everything. And he asks questions.

And Stiles, he doesn’t want to give answers.

Theo can’t help the satisfied grin that appears on his face. He’s the only one who knows the full truth – besides Stiles himself that is.

And not only that.

When the period is over – that is, the screening of Independence Day, one of the twenty old movies in the school library – is over (they’ve already seen it three times that week and it’s only Wednesday), and they all get up, Stiles turns his head away from Scott. It’s only a small, involuntary gesture, but Theo can see Scott’s frown deepen. He doesn’t say anything though. Scott hasn’t approved of Stiles’ decisions in a long time now, but he’s still his best friend, and he knows when to back off at least, Theo has to give that to him.

When he, Theo, steps up to Stiles’ desk and picks his backpack up for him, Stiles just takes it. He doesn’t look at Theo, nor does he in any way comment on his presence, but he simply accepts it. Theo can tell from his body language, from the way he turns toward him, and when Stiles bends over his bag to shove his textbook in, he doesn’t seem to mind that his elbow accidentally grazes the fabric of Theo’s sweater.

Scott who is next to Stiles throws them both a dark look, but he remains silent. Theo knows that he’s dying to hear the truth. Oh, he wants to know so badly whether it’s really true that they had sex – and how that could possibly be when Derek and Stiles were supposed to be dating and only broken up since yesterday.

When Stiles was the first one out of the whole pack to simply loathe Theo. To always mistrust him, no matter what.

Yes, true.

But the thing is this.

Theo doesn’t _want_ anything from Stiles, you see?

He already had the pleasure of screwing his brains out – he can wait.

Plus, he already knows everything there is to know.

So he can walk next to Stiles in silence, hands in the pockets of his jeans, a gentle smile on his lips.

Waiting.

Ready.

Always.

 

 

 

Stiles doesn’t even start despising Theo the way Theo expected him to. He really thought that once Stiles immediate anger ebbed away a little, he would loathe himself for having sex with a guy he always very obviously hated. That the memory of Theo’s hands on his body – not to mention Theo’s dick inside his body – would be painful and despicable to him.

But once again, Stiles surprises him because he simply doesn’t. He seems to have no regrets.

If anything, there is an air of general self-loathing about Stiles, stronger than it used to be before all of this happened, but it’s not specifically directed at Theo.

But who knows.

It might happen just yet, Stiles might still turn on Theo suddenly, and then never want to see his face ever again.

He is still deeply hurt after all.

The healing hasn’t begun yet.

 

 

On Thursday, things finally go South.

It starts with Scott running out of patience. This time, it’s impossible for Theo to keep feigning indifference. The reason for this is how extremely troubling Scott’s behavior is to Stiles.

“Stiles, you need to talk it out with Derek,” is how Scott opens the fateful conversation to which Stiles simply responds with, “No.”

“Stiles – come on,” Scott’s tone is pleading. He doesn’t want to hurt his best friend, but he also needs to protect his pack and all Stiles and Derek currently do is producing a massive conflict that impacts on every single one of them, so yes. It makes sense.

Nevertheless, when Scott says, “What could Derek possibly have done that you-,” Theo cannot forgive him for it.

“Drop it, Scott,” he says in a low voice. He has stepped up to Stiles’ desk, but refrains from touching him in any way. He can tell that Stiles desperately wants to get away. He couldn’t bear being touched now.

But Scott is immediately and majorly pissed off.

He has to.

He’s the alpha and the fact that Theo’s behavior implies that Stiles needs to be protected from him is outrageous. He cannot tolerate it and Theo knows that.

“Stay out of this, Theo, you’ve done enough,” Scott snarls. Theo meets his eyes with a disinterested expression.

“This is not about me,” he simply says.

And it really isn’t.

This time he is neither the source nor the tool of evil. If anything, he was the one keeping Stiles out of trouble that Monday. If he ended up sleeping with him, that was a wonderful bonus, but really none of Scott’s business.

“You fucking scent-marked him,” Scott hisses, eyes glowing red now. He’s almost as troubled as Stiles right now who is keeping his eyes averted to the ground and is about to run off. The only thing keeping him rooted in place is the lingering sadness bordering on depression that makes him basically unable to move.

“ _I’m_ the alpha, and you scent-marked him.”

“You know that scent-marking is something sexual,” Theo whispers back, tone still calm and neutral. “You could never have scent-marked him. You never would have – and you know that.”

But Scott is too angry to think rationally. Sensing Stiles’ hurt is utterly confusing him and is throwing him off focus, inducing him to look for danger to his pack – outside of his pack. And he’s a true alpha – any other kind of alpha would have excluded Derek. Or would have excluded them both. Simply uprooted the source of the trouble, for the protection of everyone else. But not Scott.

Oh, silly Scott.

He’s still trying to solve a conflict that has long been solved.

Everything has been said.

But he still keeps on going, even though Stiles completely tenses up at his next words, “Stiles, how could you let this piece of trash touch you – I thought you hate this guy,” refusing to say Theo’s name, “what on earth is the matter with you, what-”

“Leave me alone,” Stiles finally grits out and, almost like two days before, he takes Theo’s hand and pulls him away so he doesn’t have to flee the scene alone.

Theo doesn’t mind.

By the time they have arrived at the empty locker rooms, Stiles is crying again and Theo decides then and there that this was the last time he did not prevent something clearly painful to Stiles.

Because the thing is this.

Stiles can’t go on.

He’s utterly exhausted.

Theo pushes him into the boys’ locker room and closes the door behind them.

Stiles lets it happen and, just like on Tuesday, his strength is completely gone. Theo can practically see him inflate. Stiles falls against the tiled wall and slowly sinks down to the floor.

“Fuck,” he mutters, covering his face with his hands.

And then, after a while, “God, I’m such a disgusting piece of shit.”

He lifts his head to meet Theo’s eyes.

“Why can’t I bear talking with Scott? It’s the same with my dad. Why am I so fucking dysfunctional.”

Theo squats in front of him, a frown on his face.

“You’re not. You’re in pain and you’re burned out. It’s self-preservation, as simple as that.”

He considers Stiles’ sunken face for a moment and says, his voice harsh, “I already told you. No one has the right to force you – into anything. And I won’t allow this to happen again. Just that you know.”

And the next time, he will interfere and Stiles will be angry at him, yes, and his plan might go to hell. But that’s fine, Theo can deal with it.

Hell he knows.

He’s been there.

Stiles wipes his face with the sleeve of his hoodie, then looks down at his hands.

“I’m a mess.”

“You are,” Theo says, “But you’re going to be fine.”

“I – don’t think so,” Stiles says and it’s the tone with which he speaks the words that does something unexpected to Theo. It actually _pains_ him to hear Stiles say that – because he didn’t speak with bitterness. It was more a general remark.

A fact.

“I will take care of it,” Theo says darkly. “I promise.” And then, with emphasis, “ _You will be fine_.”

Stiles looks up to him.

He has calmed down again a little, finally.

“Why do you even care.”

Oh, Stiles.

But, no.

Not now.

This isn’t about Theo – about his deep-seated, long-lasting obsession with this pale, lanky kid. It’s not about how Theo saw amber eyes appear above a textbook that first day in grade school twelve years ago, or about how he fell in love then and there.

It’s not about him searching ways to make Stiles notice him for years and years – about how he evolved from a shy, cute kid to a headstrong, arrogant teenager who would take what he wants – only the one thing he really, truly wanted has forever been out of his reach. About how the longing and rage all but consumed him. They had made him want to kill.

They had made him kill.

It’s not about the Dread Doctors starting their experiments on his young body, torturing and scaring him while the only thing keeping him alive was the thought of growing to be finally good enough to return to Beacon Hills and claim Stiles.

It’s not about his sister who he might have pissed off just a little too much what with letting her freeze to death and then cracking her rib cage open and taking her heart to the Dread Doctors.

It had been coated with ice crystals.

The second most beautiful thing Theo has ever seen, but then, nothing could ever compare to Stiles’ eyes.

He won’t talk about how he went to hell and fucking paid.

For everything.

He’s back now and he smiles at Stiles.

“Never mind that.”

Stiles is the one to initiate again. He reaches over to tug at the rim of Theo’s pants and Theo, smiling, unbuttons them for him.

“Here. Let me help you.”

“Do it again,” Stiles breathes while trying to pull Theo’s pants down over his hips. He’s being so clumsy, Theo can’t help but laugh at his attempts. He takes his hands, holds them, stopping Stiles from doing anything.

“What are you trying to do? What is it that you want? Tell me.”

Stiles has locked eyes with him.

“I want you to fuck me,” he says and Theo’s heart starts beating loudly.

He still manages to pull off a confused smile.

Years of practice evidently pay off.

“What? Here and now?”

“Yes,” Stiles says with determination and then he’s on his feet and pulling Theo up with him and across the room, away from the door, further back between the rows of lockers.

And Theo, he must have blacked out for a second there because suddenly Stiles is all over him and he truly and honestly doesn’t know how that happened.

How they even got here.

And Stiles is whispering things into his ear that make him wild and he’s pulling at Theo’s sweater, complaining that he was the only one naked last time.

Words Theo had been hearing in his dreams so long ago. But then the Dread Doctors had turned him into a machine and he’d stopped dreaming.

Theo pulls his sweater and shirt off with one swift move. The look Stiles is giving him now – is so dirty. Cunning, almost, it’s perfect.

“Heartbreak really gets your sly side out, doesn’t it,” he whispers when Stiles wraps his arms around his shoulders. “A little schizoid, aren’t you?”

“Always have been,” Stiles mutters.

“I know,” Theo says back and an oddly warm feeling clouds his chest when Stiles responds with, “...I know you know.”

Then – and again, Theo has no fucking clue how they got there – Stiles’ mouth is on his dick and he almost loses balance.

Stiles must sense the weakness in his knees, or maybe he sees the surprise in Theo’s face because he smirks around his dick and soon, all Theo can see are those eyes.

His whole being tunes in to Stiles. Flows along with him, but – it’s not right. It feels _heavenly_ – but it’s not right.

Stiles should be the one to be comforted.

Luckily, Theo is still strong enough to push Stiles’ shoulders away from him. His dick slides out of Stiles’ mouth and – aw, great, it smells like Stiles’ spit, too, which makes Theo’s erection even more painful.

He’s so close.

“Sucking me off to punish yourself, Stiles? Really?”

“I thought you like that,” Stiles just gives back.

“I do. But I repeat. This isn’t about me.”

Stiles shrugs.

He’s calm, but his face slowly falls.

The smugness – the perfect, mischievous little grin long gone.

Theo inhales deeply, forcing himself to calm down as well and, God.

It’s so fucking difficult when all he really wants right now is throw Stiles down and fuck him until he’s moaning and writhing beneath him.

But, no.

Calm. The fuck. Down.

“You do know that it’s only natural that you would seek out a good feeling – and a feeling of control. It’s only natural after everything that happened to you. You know that, right?”

Stiles narrows his eyes at that, throws him a look that’s almost as toxic as it used to be.

“I never knew you’re an amateur-psychologist, Theo.”

Theo is breathing more calmly again, now. He pulls Stiles up to his feet.

“Of course I am. How do you think world domination is to be had? By learning everything there is to know about human behavior first.”

A pause.

Stiles is looking him in the eyes and it’s impossible to tell what he’s thinking.

Then he opens his mouth and what comes out is, “I still want you to fuck me. Now.”

Theo’s mouth is oddly dry.

The words were spoken calmly, almost matter-of-factly.

Truly, Stiles is the most fascinating person Theo ever met and, yes, holy God, does he want to fuck him.

“I think you’re ready,” Stiles says with a look down at Theo’s boner. Theo can’t even pull of a smirk. He’s far too worked up.

There’s no condom this time, no lube or anything, but really, it’s Stiles’ fault.

And Stiles – he knew that would happen.

He’s so smart – the smartest – and he seems to have guessed the extent of Theo’s obession for him by now. Alright, maybe not the whole extent – but he must have known that Theo would be rough if he provoked him like that.

He knew he would be shoved to the ground, that his pants would be yanked down.

He knew it and wanted it.

And he wanted the pain, too.

When Theo slams into him – he’s feral now, operating purely on instinct and he puts his dick in the right position, the right angle, right away – Stiles stifles a cry with his right hand.

Which of course means that it’s impossible for him to maintain balance and, on the edge of his consciousness, Theo can sense Stiles’ utter surprise when claws catch him.

Hold him steady, in place.

He’s being fucked savagely, but Theo is still taking care of him. He’s still paying attention to their surroundings, making sure no one interrupts them. Protecting his mate from potential danger.

“Fuck,” he gasps out when that word shoots into his head. He knows he’s wolfed out and he never expected that – but it’s too late.

Stiles whimpers and shifts – he can barely move, Theo has him almost flush against his chest – but he still manages to whisper, “What? What is it?”

He must have sensed Theo tense up. Must have felt him hold back – struggling to hold back all of a sudden, that is.

“Don’t stop,” he adds, but Theo clutches his right hand over his mouth.

“Don’t speak,” he hisses into Stiles’ ear. Getting those words out is difficult for Theo. He’s almost too far gone.

Theo is the only were left in Beacon Hills who can still tap into his animal and shift completely.

There’s a reason for that.

“I can’t – guarantee – for your safety,” he breathes out.

Focus.

Fucking _focus_.

He can feel Stiles trying to move. Rubbing up against him and he lets out a moan.

“ _Fuck_ – hold still – I’m – I can’t hold back – I might – knot you-”

And he didn’t plan on doing that.

Not like this anyway.

Stiles’ jaw moves and Theo, clumsily, pulls his hand back.

“What?”

“Werewolf-thing. It means – _no_ – I can’t – it would – _hurt_ you, it’s not-”

Breathing.

Can’t speak anymore.

He’s right on the edge.

And Stiles, he’s so smart.

Of course he read about it somewhere. Or maybe he simply guessed. Animals do it, too, after all. And, horribly and absolutely fucking incredibly, he says, “Do it. Claim me.”

And then, more urgently, trembling beneath him, “Theo, please. I – I _need_ you to-”

That’s it.

Theo’s last bit of self-restraint – gone.

It’s fucking gone and so is his rational mind. This has never happened before – never like this.

Theo has never knotted anyone before – and the only times he really lost it was when he the sound and smell of blood, and of his claws ripping through sinews and tissue drove him to a mindless killing frenzy.

But never like this.

The feeling of his knot coming on, his features wolfish and cat-like at the same time – it’s divine and terrifying at the same time.

Yes, he’s exerting the utmost power over Stiles, showing his dominance in the clearest way.

At the same time, it _means_.

The fact that his knot would come out when he’s buried deep inside of Stiles is meaningful and it makes him vulnerable as much as it makes him powerful and Stiles – Theo knows that Stiles can feel him trembling and struggling. That he can hear his frenzied breathing, and feel how completely and utterly out of control he is and, God.

It turns Stiles on.

It really does.

He is pushing himself up, causing Theo to sink an inch deeper into him and Stiles is in so much pain, too, but he doesn’t care. Theo can smell his arousal and he would love to wrap at least one of his hands around Stiles’ dick, but he can’t. They’re left and right of Stiles now, he’s on all fours, pressing Stiles down, keeping him boxed in and depriving him almost entirely of his ability to move.

To get away.

Theo is pumping him and Stiles is trembling, his whole body limp.

Then Theo’s teeth puncture the skin over his shoulder blade – he’s almost a head shorter than Stiles which, if you consider it like this, is kind of hilarious – and Stiles just comes. He’s biting down on his own hand, stifling the yell, while the orgasm is rocking through his body.

Seems like an orgasm from knotting is different, too. Theo never knew that it would have an effect on a human like Stiles.

But then, Stiles has always been different, right?

He’s shaking while Theo is coming inside of him, his knot pumping out waves of sperm, and it takes a long time. Stiles is shuddering and moaning into his hand for more than a minute – maybe even two – before he collapses. He falls forward into Theo’s arms, almost unconscious.

It takes more than ten minutes for his knot to go down during which Theo is highly alert. His instincts are still dominating his whole being and he realizes that doing it like this, in what is basically a public place, was the most stupid thing he could have come up with.

He should have known his wolf would want to knot Stiles.

No matter how much of a synthetic concoction Theo is – the Dread Doctors still got most of it right.

Plus, he has been considering Stiles the only thing worth having since he was six years old. And now they’re tied together, stray orgasmic waves still washing over Theo now and Stiles isn’t even really there anymore. He’s breathing, yes, but he’s so exhausted and he needs to be tended to. He needs to be safe, absolutely safe, but Theo cannot protect him like this, not when he can’t even move him.

When someone might walk in on them any moment and Theo would interpret every interruption as a mortal danger right now.

He’s never been so at the mercy of his wolf.

Then, finally, after what seems like forever, he can sense his knot going down. Another two minutes later, he can pull himself out of Stiles – infinitely gently.

“Holy… shit,” Theo mutters while lowering Stiles down carefully – not onto the puddle of his own sperm, but he puts him down a little to the right.

“No – sit,” Stiles mumbles and Theo, his muscular arms trembling, props him up against the lockers, holds him in place with his left hand while working up his own pants with his right.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he curses with a look at himself. Then he flicks his eyes over at Stiles. “ _Fuck_. Holy – _God_...”

“I’m – good,” Stiles says and signals for Theo to remove his hand. And, really – when Theo does, Stiles manages to hold himself upright.

Theo puts his shirt on, then proceeds to wipe the floor unceremoniously with his sweater.

He needs to remove every little trace of this – has to, it would just cause questions and unnecessary trouble – when, what he really wants, what he desperately needs, is to cradle Stiles in his arms and keep him warm.

“Fuck,” he curses again. What is this fucking feeling.

To gather, to nurture, to protect.

It’s sheer _agony_.

His head snaps up when he hears Stiles make a sound. Stiles is so weak and exhausted, but he’s actually chuckling.

He’s laughing at him.

“Who’d have thought,” he says, his voice all broken and raspy. He gives Theo a sly grin. “Who’d have thought that something could unsettle _you_.”

“I-,” Theo starts. Then falls silent. His cheeks are burning hot. He doesn’t even know why.

“Oh, my God,” Stiles says, eyes wide, before he throws his head back for a loud, long laugh. “You’re actually blushing. This is amazing.”

Theo cannot find it in himself to speak. He’s mortified. He should have been in control of the situation, but he wasn’t. He accidentally claimed Stiles – he can smell droplets of blood trickling down from the broken skin on Stiles’ back – and while this may not be anything permanent, it certainly is something incredibly intimate.

He never meant to show this side of himself. Ever.

Quite frankly, he didn’t even know it was there.

So, Theo, he doesn’t know what to say. He keeps his head bent in shame while wiping off the mess they made.

Hours later, when he’s alone in his empty flat, he can still hear the sound of Stiles’ laughter ringing in his ears.

He’d been teasing him and it’s making Theo feel ashamed and exhilarated at the same time. Such a bittersweet sound.

 

 

 

There’s one last incident before the graduation ceremony.

It happens that evening, Thursday, the same day Theo accidentally knotted Stiles in the boys’ locker room. It’s almost midnight and Theo is already stretched out on his futon. His room is empty except for piles of books. There’s not even a lamp. Theo cares neither for furniture, nor for accessories.

He doesn’t have a framed picture of Stiles because not even he is that creepy.

At least, that’s what he keeps telling himself.

He knows Derek has one.

Isn’t it odd?

Derek must have been in love with Stiles.

And yet, he, Theo was the one who knotted Stiles. Not Derek.

While he often reflects on human behavior in general, he usually never does with a personal interest, so it’s a surprise to him when he finds himself wondering whether that was one of the reasons Derek shied away from actual intercourse with Stiles. This utter loss of control coming on slowly and surely.

It’s fucking terrifying.

At the same time, nothing could ever feel better. It’s the oddest thing.

Theo sits up in the darkness of his room, going, “Tssss….”

He couldn’t care less about Derek fucking Hale.

All he cares about is Stiles, and if Derek never manages to work out his issues, all the better for him. Not that he would let Derek anywhere near Stiles ever again anyway. The only reason he’s not sleeping in the tree in front of Stiles’ bedroom window right now is that Stiles would surely notice and he would not appreciate Theo’s attempt to control his life like that.

That and it’s fucking uncomfortable.

When his cellphone starts buzzing Theo almost jumps – almost. He’s the Dread Doctors’ creature who are masters of electricity, so Theo can actually feel the call coming in before it happens.

It’s kind of annoying. He has no clue how it works and in certain places, he gets the most maddeningly extreme headaches, to the point of complete immobility. That’s one of the reasons he sleeps in an empty apartment without any electric appliances whatsoever.

He picks his phone up and frowns down at the display that says _Stiles_.

It’s true that he has been waiting for this moment for a long time. It’s the only reason Theo made a point of having his number put down in an actual phone book. Stiles might one day call him for help – because why else would he look up and dial Theo’s number at 11:35 p.m.?

A booty call?

No, Stiles isn’t whole enough again for that, not by far.

It has only really been four days.

“What’s wrong?,” is the first thing Theo says and he can’t completely hide that he’s worried. More than worried. He’s fucking ready to jump out the window and start running in the direction of Stiles’ house.

God.

This knotting incident did something to him.

And when Stiles speaks, he knows he should have been running ten seconds ago because he sounds off, something bad.

“Theo?”

Too shrill, too odd altogether.

“Can you come over?”

Not even hesitating for a second, or trying to veil he fact that he really needs him.

“Please, I – my dad – could you maybe stall him a little? Not hurt him, I mean – just distract him? I need – I need some space.”

Calm now.

It’s vital that you get all the information.

So you can react accordingly.

“What happened?”

“Derek’s here.”

“I’ll be there in ten,” Theo says and Stiles says back “Okay,” and “Thanks,” and Theo hangs up.

When he pulls up his pants and puts on a fresh shirt, his hands are trembling.

Derek is with Stiles.

How dare he – how fucking dare he – but what if Stiles decided to give him a second chance?

What if – holy shit.

He shouldn’t have listened to Stiles that morning. He shouldn’t have fucked him and knotted him and claimed him. The fear that something might happen to him – or that someone might take Stiles away for good – it has always been there, but the arrogance Theo acquired over the years always shielded him from going crazy over it.

He knew keeping his cool was important, too, because otherwise he would have locked Stiles away in a cellar a year ago. Probably would have cut him up, too, just to make sure no one can put his hands on him ever again. Then killed himself out of longing and grief.

As it is, he managed to stay borderline sane all this time, even throughout years of medical experiments, but, oh.

He can feel it crumble.

He is only randomly aware that he put on shoes and grabbed his car keys, then he’s already downstairs, flooring the gas pedal. It’s his luck that there’s virtually no cops in Beacon Hills or he would have yet another mangled corpse to his name and – thirty-four is such a good number.

Why ruin that?

He has the presence of mind to slow down once he arrives in Stiles’ street. When he pulls into the Stilinski driveway, no Camaro is to be seen. Derek must have run here – and he’s there, he’s inside the house, Theo picks up his scent as soon as he opens the door of his car.

That’s not good.

It means that Derek wasn’t able to do what Theo just barely succeeded in doing.

Holding on to that rest of rational thought that makes him able to play at being normal.

Then Theo has let himself in and he’s genuinely scared.

For all he knows he might find Stiles in Derek’s arms and he knows he would completely lose it. He would kill Derek.

Holy shit, he really needs to work on that.

Stall the sheriff.

That’s what he’s here for, what Stiles asked him to do.

Theo breathes in and out to calm himself and that’s the moment he can hear Derek snarl, “He fucking _claimed_ you!” at the same instant that the sheriff’s voice is saying, “Walk out, Derek. _Now_.”

Theo flies up the stairs and walks in on the oddest scene.

In hindsight, however, it isn’t strange at all that he would find the sheriff shielding Stiles, gun in his hand. Pointing it at Derek.

He doesn’t even have to focus on his sense of smell to know that it’s loaded with wolfsbane. And not just any kind of wolfsbane. The stuff is so poisonous that Theo’s eyes start watering merely from standing out in the hallway.

One load would kill Derek on the spot.

Theo shouldn’t have been surprised to find Derek completely wolfed out and lurking in one corner of Stiles’ room, eyes glued to Stiles’ face as if the sheriff wasn’t even there.

As odd as it had initially seemed, after only a couple of seconds the scenario starts making sense in Theo’s head.

It’s only logical that Derek would have come to talk to Stiles – or beg him to take him back or fight with him or whatever – and that he smelled Theo’s claiming bite. He would have known instantly that another wolf knotted his – well, Stiles _used to be_ Derek’s mate after all. Of sorts. Unclaimed, but still.

And he would have gone livid.

Which would explain why Stiles’ room kinda looks like it was hit by a bomb. Only the large hole in the roof is missing.

So this?

It’s perfect for Theo, for his intentions, but he cannot find himself relaxing. Not at all because Derek is set to claim. Theo can tell from the way he is ducking down. He can smell it on him for God’s sake. He’s feral and he won’t be stopped.

Well, that is, the sheriff will stop him.

Then Derek will be dead and Stiles will never be able to get over this and that’s that.

Oh, for God’s sake.

Theo is finally fully in control again.

He knows it’s only a matter of seconds until Derek will pick up his scent and then turn to eliminate him and the sheriff will only shoot and kill Derek to protect his son. Certainly not someone who almost got his son killed just recently. It’s such a shame that the sheriff knows about the Dread Doctors – and about Theo’s involvement in the whole mess. He knows that Theo killed Josh.

Needless to say, he doesn’t appreciate it.

Okay, well.

He settled things with Josh already – while he was over there. Beyond.

Theo is still not feeling any regrets, but he gets it.

And Josh got his revenge, too.

That’s important, see?

For Theo to understand where he could have gone wrong.

Possibly.

Now it’s time to pay his debt to the sheriff. But he won’t be able to stall Derek for long. Not even he is arrogant enough to believe that an omega like him could take on a feral beta, no, he learned his lesson.

Megalomania always only gets your neck broken in the end.

Unpleasant.

So Theo types Scott a message – thank God he actually brought his phone – and hopes that Scott will react to the message even though it’s from Theo.

It’s just four words: _SOS Stiles place ASAP_

There’s no time for apostrophe or period dot – he couldn’t care less about the latter, but can be really particular about the former – because when he hits send, Derek is already on him.

Theo jerks the cellphone away and manages to put it down carefully – just in case he still needs it – but that also means that Derek’s claws dig into his chest because he rolls away a split-second too late.

Stupid.

And, oh.

Derek is set to kill.

Theo vaguely realizes that the sheriff is out in the hallway now and so is Stiles and he’s yelling something – his name – and it makes Theo’s senses even sharper. Helps him ignore the stifling pain in his chest.

Then he’s fighting for dear life, only stopping once to shout at the sheriff to get Stiles as far away as possible _fast_. The man doesn’t hesitate.

Theo manages to yank Derek out of the way, turn him around with sheer, brutal force and they thrash into what seems to be the sheriff’s bedroom.

Clearing the hallway, just as Theo intended.

He’s feeling incredibly relieved when Stiles’ heartbeat is moving away, down the stairs and then, a few moments later, they’re out of the house.

Theo can focus all his senses on Derek now. On not killing Derek while avoiding himself getting a lethal blow.

He has no idea how long he has been fighting – or, ripping and tearing and keeping Derek from ripping and tearing would be more precise because, yes, it’s an ugly sight, not a choreography from a Tarantino movie, even though, wouldn’t that be cool?

So Theo has no idea how long this has been going on – he just knows he won’t be able to hold up for much longer. He’s bleeding out fast.

Then Scott is here suddenly, and so is his whole pack and Theo wants to yell at them, something like ‘What the fuck took you so long?’

But it has probably only really been fifteen minutes.

Who knows.

Liam is the first one on Derek and then Scott is commanding Derek to obey, snarling him down with his alpha voice and his alpha red eyes and Theo – he smiles.

He always wanted that – what Scott has.

The power, yes, but first and foremost, he always wanted to be Stiles’ alpha. He figured it would be the only way to truly have him.

He was so wrong.

He collapses onto his back, smile locked onto his face and he means to ask whether Stiles is safe, but all that comes out of his mouth is a wave of blood.

Dark-red, too, he can smell it.

It’s not good.

The kind of smell that would induce the Dread Doctors to put their test subjects out of misery. And, wouldn’t it be merciful of Scott to rip Theo’s throat out now?

He’s in so much pain and from the words he can pick up, Stiles seems to be safe. The sheriff apparently drove him over to Melissa McCall and they just barely missed Scott who set off the moment he received a message from him.

From Theo.

Theo’s smiling.

He caused the whole mess this Thursday night – and he really didn’t mean to, he didn’t mean to claim Stiles, not like this, not now and Stiles has to understand this – but he also solved the problem, didn’t he? And without killing anyone either.

Like a good guy, yes?

It’s enough.

Then his eyes go vacant.

 

 

 

 

The first thing he picks up when he comes to is Stiles’ scent.

Which of course can’t be.

First, because he’s dead, obviously. At least, he should be.

Second, because even if he weren’t the last person to tend to him would be Stiles.

The last time Theo almost died he woke up dirty, dehydrated and almost frozen to death. They had just left him there which – he deserved it, yes, he knows he did.

But this doesn’t explain why Stiles’ voice is now saying his name.

“Theo… are you awake?”

Theo peels back his eyelids and, truly, there they are.

Stiles’ amber eyes looking at him. There’s a five o’clock shadow on his chin and purple rings beneath his eyes. He looks like he didn’t sleep at all, and the smile he’s giving Theo now is faint. Gentle.

It’s so strange.

“Can you sit up?”

Theo blinks – and then starts moving.

His body feels like shards. It’s painful, but he can sit up.

“I’m alive,” he mutters, flicking his eyes down at his naked upper body.

“Yeah, well – barely so. But yes, you are.”

“How….?”

“You’re supernatural,” Stiles says back.

“But,” oh, man, even frowning hurts, “Derek killed me. I felt like I was dying.”

“And you almost did,” Stiles says, his smile gone for now.

“Where...”

“You’re on my bed,” a voice is saying. The sheriff is stepping up to him. Puts his hand on his son’s shoulder.

“I told Scott to throw you out into the ditch, but he wouldn’t do it,” he continues, but his voice isn’t harsh.

“Lucky me,” Theo says with a smirk.

“You can say that again.”

“So – Stiles,” turning to his son, “you need to get a few hours of sleep, please, I’m begging you.” It sounds like they’ve had this conversation several times throughout the past hours.

“You haven’t slept in days and – the ceremony is at two. You can’t show up there looking like the – the living dead or something.”

Then he stops.

“Sweet Jesus – there’s no zombies – is there?”

“Probably not, dad. But who knows.”

“Come on.”

“Go to sleep,” Theo says. And then, “Is Derek okay?”

“He’s not dead,” Stiles says, eyes averted down to his hands, “Thanks to you.”

“The undeserving piece of sh-,” the sheriff mutters, but Stiles raises his voice to drown out a long series of curses, “The pack, they – they managed to get him away. They took him to Deaton’s first thing this morning. Liam and Mason are watching him.”

“And you spent the night at the McCall’s house?”

Stiles nods.

“I only came back here an hour ago.”

“How late is it?”

“It’s eight a.m.,” Stiles says, “and before we set off Scott told me that – that you probably wouldn’t make it. That they left you here and that you’ve been here for hours by yourself and that – that it wasn’t likely that-”

He stops.

His eyes are empty. Theo can tell that Stiles is right at his limit. He’s completely drained. His father is right. He needs to rest.

“So, by chance and a row of coincidences, I’m still here.”

Stiles nods.

“And so are you – right?”

Another nod. It’s true. Stiles could be dead ten times over, but he isn’t.

And Theo, he could have never found his way back. But he did.

Three times now.

“Go to sleep, Stiles.”

“You heard the brat,” the sheriff says and then he’s gently pushing his son out the door.

When they’re gone, Theo starts moving on the mattress. The smell of the room is disgusting. Dried blood and guts. The mattress is completely soaked. The sheriff is going to have to redo the whole room.

Which is probably the only reason he even allowed Theo to stay here, on his bed.

Theo lets out a soft chuckle.

So, in a way, they really left him lying in the ditch. Well, he never expected anything else. And, as chance would have it, he’s here again.

And he’s glad about it, too.

He really wanted to come back to Stiles.

Theo slowly pushes his feet off the mattress. He can tell that his insides are only starting to heal. He won’t be able to eat anything for the next few hours.

Best thing would be to go right back to sleep. To not even move at all.

But he can’t do that.

So, Derek is not okay.

Figured.

But, Theo is sure, he will be.

And, so will he.

He won’t lose to Derek fucking Hale. Bite the dust while Derek is being pampered back to health by the creepy witch doctor.

He’s going to survive and he’s going to count the fact that he woke up to Stiles waiting by his side as a point for himself.

Only thing he needs to do now is dig his car keys up from the shreds of his pants on the floor.

His pocket has to be somewhere around here.

 

 

Theo is late for his own graduation ceremony. When his name is called, he limps up to the stage and, yes, there might be a grin on his face.

It’s what people do, okay?

Smile when they graduate from high school. For the photo.

It’s nothing personal.

The thing is, it’s a small miracle that he even managed to be here. He fell asleep on the floor of his apartment – no need to soil his futon with blood – and woke up again at noon when the alarm of his cellphone went off. He was better then. Far from good.

But good enough.

At least he was pretty sure around one thirty that his guts wouldn’t spill all over his shoes during the attempt of climbing the stage to receive his diploma.

Not that he even cared for it. But he always meant to see Stiles’ face when he finally made it. Stiles has been so close to death so many times that graduating is a huge thing for him, even bigger than for regular teenagers.

It took Theo an hour to shower, get rid of the blood and gore, put his clothes on.

He threw his robe over his head, pulled it down and in place, only after he parked his car in the school parking lot – the family car, his sports is kind of crusted with blood. A lost case, probably, but, oh well.

Stiles is the guy who is called to the stage right after Theo – Stilinski comes after Raeken – and Theo can see him beaming.

Good.

Stiles looks like he slept a little, too. Maybe even ate.

So.

This probably hasn’t turned out he the way he always pictured it.

Certainly not the way he’d been picturing it during the past weeks when he’d been with Derek.

But still.

Good enough, right?

And, sometimes, that’s all you get, and you better hold on to it.

 

 

 

“I’m kind of glad you’re not dead,” is what Stiles says to him when they’re crowding around the buffet. Stiles is munching on a mini pizza. Theo is digging into his fifth. He can feel that he desperately needs the energy.

“You look like you’re starving.”

Theo swallows and grimaces.

“You look like you’ve been dead for a day. But hey,” with a trademark mischievous smirk, “you still got the prettiest face.”

Stiles frowns at him. Theo can tell that he’s trying to determine whether Theo is teasing him or not. Then he seems to decide that it doesn’t really matter.

“The others are leaving,” Stiles says, turning his head to the left and right. Then back to Theo. “Care for a party?”

As good an invitation as any.

Theo smiles – and nods.

He can’t believe he made it through the whole day, through one speech after the other, every new event more tedious than the last. He only thought of his parents twice that afternoon.

The usual stuff.

Wondering whether, if he hadn’t killed them, they’d be proud and all that.

Probably not.

Which of course is one of the reasons he killed them.

So, it’s nine p.m. and he gets out of his car. He pulled in right next to Stiles’ blue Jeep. Of course Scott had been the one driving it. No way that he would let Stiles alone in his condition.

Especially now, that everyone finally knows what exactly happened. The people that matter, that is.

Theo sighs and locks his car.

To him of course only one person really matters – and he will have to accept that that person is out of his reach again for now.

At least, Stiles is no longer with Derek. That’s a plus, right?

But more importantly, Theo knows what Stiles’ orgasm face looks like.

He walks into the house with a dirty grin on his face, immersing himself in the metallic sounding music that’s way too loud, politely taking a red plastic cup of whatever kind of stew his fellow-graduates concocted – it reeks of alcohol, but then, everything in here does – and takes a sip from it. Grimaces. Then takes another sip.

Alcohol does nothing for him, so all he’s holding is a weird brownish liquid that stings in his eyes. He goes looking for the potted Ficus tree that just has to be here somewhere, pushing his way through dancing students many of which he has never seen before – the students of Beacon Hills High clearly aren’t the only seniors to be celebrating their graduation here, but Theo wouldn’t really know. He never listened when stuff like that was being discussed at school, during their free period, and the girls on the party committee accepted it because, oh, isn’t Theo _handsome_?

When he’s emptying his cup into the plant pot, someone is saying close to his ear, “You’re killing the Ficus Benjamin.”

“He probably deserves to die.”

Theo straightens his back and finds himself face to face with Stiles.

“Why aren’t you drunk?,” he yells at him over the sound of dubstep, a frown on his face. “I really expected you to be vomiting your guts out over a toilet bowl while Scotty is holding your hair like a good boy.”

Stiles shrugs.

“I feel like shit,” he shouts back. “No need to make things worse.”

Theo considers him. Gives him a good, long look, from head to toes.

Yeah, he might feel like shit, but Stiles is handsome as ever in a pair of black, tight jeans – almost like the ones Theo is wearing – and a purple shirt with some horrible band’s name on it. It looks like someone accidentally dropped their drink all over Stiles’ chest – and from the little Theo can pick up out of the sickening melee of scents and smells in the room, someone probably did.

More importantly, however, Stiles’ face is looking good. Theo didn’t lie earlier, he’s so fucking pretty, it hurts.

With his high cheekbones and that curve of his lips, his upturned nose and, man. Those eyes.

Stiles’ eyebrows are slowly wandering up his forehead because, yeah, Theo has been staring at him with that blank look on his face for far too long now.

Usually he can hide it better, but well. Sue him. He got his guts ripped out last night. He deserves to get lost in Stiles’ face a little.

“Come on,” Stiles says with a nod to his right. “This could be our song.”

They just started playing Skrillex’s Equinox.

Theo grimaces.

“Very funny.”

Stiles can be such a little shit.

Exactly how he likes him.

Theo is trying to follow Stiles, but he’s slow and still extremely weak, so Stiles turns back to him and reaches out. He touches the palm of Theo’s hand and Theo quickly closes it around the long, pale fingers.

 

 

 

 

So Theo actually danced. He made it through one and a half songs, before he stumbled away from the living room-turned-dancefloor and collapsed against the wall, right next to a big potted plant.

He’s still there when Stiles spots him thirty minutes later.

“You can’t get rid of the Ficus, mh?,” Stiles is saying when he sits down next to him.

“At least no one trips over me like this. I’m not too fond of cheap sneakers in my badly-healed stomach.”

Stiles turns to look at him.

“I think you’re hiding from all the girls who are dead set on seducing you tonight. You do know that Janine Armstrong has been looking everywhere for you? She told everyone she’d lose your virginity to you tonight.”

Theo snorts.

“I don’t even know who that is.”

“Tall girl, brunette, big boobs – kind of a shrill voice.”

“Ah. Janine. Right.”

“Right,” Stiles says. He lets his head fall back against the yellow wallpaper. The Ficus Benjamin is in a short hallway right next to the staircase and it’s a little quieter out here. People are only passing through to reach either the bathrooms or the upstairs.

It’s possible to talk here without yelling at each other.

“You’re clearly better,” Theo says to Stiles. Turns his head to look at him. “That’s good. I’m glad.”

“I am,” Stiles says, then falls silent again.

The song blasting through the rented party house is Pins and Needles now, by Billy Talent.

“They really dug up all the music from ten years ago,” Theo says, but Stiles doesn’t ask him what kind of music he usually listens to. He’s staring ahead, his eyes vacant. Not seeing the blonde girl who rushes by to vomit in the bathroom.

She almost makes it.

“I had this grand scheme, you know,” Stiles whispers and Theo can only discern the words because he has supernatural hearing. “To make Derek take me to my graduation ceremony. I got him a ticket and all.”

It’s the first time Theo heard Stiles say Derek’s name since that Monday.

“Not just while we were dating, you know. Even before that.” He huffs out a cheerless chuckle. “Man, I’ve had a crush on this guy for, like – forever.”

“...I know,” Theo says – because he always did.

“And then when we started dating – and Beacon Hills stayed calm – it seemed like – it seemed perfect. You know? Like something good could finally happen to me.”

“Mh,” Theo says to signal that he’s listening. He doesn’t dare speak actual words for fear of interrupting Stiles.

“But I should have known – from the very start – that something was off. You see? From the way – like, Derek would shift when I hugged him. Like he was uncomfortable. But – I just – we were having problems from the very start, but I just completely glossed it over. In my mind, okay? Because I really did try to talk it out with him and he never wanted to.”

Suddenly Stiles is laughing. Its kind of a creepy sight considering that his eyes are full of tears.

He’s reaching up to rub his face. Wipe the tears away.

“It’s so ridiculous. We dated for three months – and we only had sex three times. And every time was a complete fucking disaster. I should have known.”

He wipes his face again, then looks down at his arms that are resting on his knees.

“What you did to me? Derek would never have done that. The thought of sticking it to me weirded him out majorly. It disgusted him.”

This is the moment Theo can’t hold back anymore.

“He never deserved you.”

Stiles takes a deep breath.

“Maybe. Who knows.”

“...he’s gonna be okay.”

Stiles turns to look at Theo.

“I don’t fucking care whether Derek is okay or not. He screwed me over majorly – and not in a way I can just – forgive. And then he completely lost it when he smelled you on me. He tried to fucking _rape_ me. If my dad hadn’t barged in in time… he heard me yelling, you know. I got my phone out and called you when he started threatening to kill Derek and I thought – I was still being fucking delusional. I really truly believed Derek would calm down and, like – we could talk it out or something. I really needed to hear Derek’s reasons. I’m such a fucking moron.”

“You’re not. And – I hate to say that, but this time, it wasn’t Derek’s fault. That he went feral,” Theo finds himself saying, even though he can hear the blood rushing in his ears. He never thought Derek would have managed to actually do something to Stiles before he’d arrived. He thought they’d just talked. “It’s – it’s instinct-,” but he trails off. Fuck.

“Did he,” Theo starts again. Swallows. “What did he do to you?”

“Nothing,” Stiles says back, shaking his head and Theo can feel his own shoulders relax a little.

“Just pushed me down on the bed, but then my dad stormed in which threw Derek off track. I can’t fucking believe he wanted to do that. I mean – when the thought of – of fucking me in the butt is, under normal circumstances, so disgusting to him.”

Stiles is sounding so bitter.

“It’s as I said. Instinct. And it’s as you said days ago. Derek is deeply damaged. Maybe forever.”

“Or maybe he’s just a fucking homophobe,” Stiles says back, eyes narrowed.

Theo lifts his eyebrows at him.

“You’re angry,” he states.

“Hell yeah, I’m fucking angry,” Stiles says back. “And I’m still not done – I won’t – I won’t simply forgive. Scott said that Derek’s bitch left messages on Derek’s phone. Scott texted her back, told her where she can find him. Then another bitch started texting. Turns out, Derek has been doing this since almost from the start. He’s been fucking three different girls for weeks now. And that – _woman_ – the one with brown curls – she’s currently crying her goddamn eyes out in Deaton’s back room, according to Scott. So – Derek’s gonna get his happy ending, right?”

He throws his head back, stares up to the ugly painting on the opposite wall. It’s a girl surrounded by a flock of geese.

“A happy fucking ending.”

Theo waits for a few moments before he speaks. Lets Stiles wallow in anger for half a minute and, oh, he’s furious. Theo can sense it.

“...you never cared for endings, Stiles.”

It takes about five seconds for that to sink in. Then Stiles’ shoulders relax.

“True.”

They both look up when Danny comes stumbling out into the hallway and spots them. “Bathroom?,” he slurs, and Stiles points a finger to the right.

“Thankssss…”

Then they’re just sitting there and listening to the sound of eighteen-year-olds partying like there’s no tomorrow. Considering themselves lucky that they’re here now, when so many others aren’t.

Then, after about ten minutes of silence, Stiles pulls Theo up from the floor. He has curled his fingers into Theo’s palm and Theo immediately closed his fist around them.

 

 

 

An hour and fifteen minutes later Theo is bending Stiles over the hood of his car.

None of them had really meant for it to happen like this – out in the woods, with bugs crawling up their naked legs and leaves rustling around them, but they’d been driving through town for an hour, looking for a good place to eat to find that the only place still open is the McDonald’s on Fourth Street.

Theo had devoured his burger, but Stiles had only nibbled at his fries and then admitted to him that he might have had something to drink after all.

Which of course in part explains his emotional outburst earlier that night.

It definitely explains why Theo had to pull over a minute later so Stiles could fall out of the car and empty his stomach out onto the grass. At least Theo wouldn’t be the only one to kill an innocent plant that night.

So Stiles ended up vomiting after all – but it wasn’t Scott who was holding the hood of his brown hoodie so it wouldn’t get smeared with bile and chewed up bits of mini pizza and fries.

The pull of Stiles’ weight in his arms made Theo feel more alive than he had all day. Stronger, finally. Like he was almost healed completely because he had to be fine. Stiles needed someone to take care of him and Theo would never allow that person to be anyone but himself.

When he handed Stiles a fresh bottle of water from the passenger seat door, Stiles spit out and smirked, and said, “Figured.”

Then Theo had meant to take Stiles home.

He’d told him so, too.

But Stiles had said that he didn’t want to go home just yet. That his father didn’t expect him back – it was his graduation party after all, no matter what had happened that day.

No one was going to take that night away from Stiles and if anyone tried to, Stiles was going to fucking murder them.

So Theo suggested driving up to a nice place outside of Beacon Hills that he’d seen while on the prowl and Stiles had shrugged and said something along the lines of, “As good a plan as any.”

And here they are, unable to keep their fucking hands off each other apparently.

When Theo kisses Stiles he tastes like alcohol and fries, but mostly like vomit and Theo smiles against his lips.

They don’t speak when Theo puts on the condom – back to pretending to be civil again, not that a were could ever catch or transmit an STD – and spreads the lube on his half-hard dick. Stiles is watching him with a grin on his face that is very visible in the pale moonlight, even below the shade of trees, his eyebrows pulled up almost as if to say, _You make sure you do a good job there, buddy_. It’s the most ridiculous of facial expressions, even for Stiles.

“Nothing to look at here,” Theo huffs out – and then, “So – is this still about revenge?”

“Yup.”

“Okay. Just asking.”

Stiles smirks at him and says, “What else would it be about?”

“Oh… I don’t know,” Theo says back. He’s already standing there bare-chested and now simply steps out of his pants. Then he reaches up and Stiles doesn’t even flinch when Theo wraps his hand around his neck.

Then forces him over to the car, pushing his neck down so Stiles’ chest is pressed flush against the hood.

“About how you like _this_...,” and he exerts pressure onto his hand, flattening Stiles’ cheek on the aluminium, “… a little too much.”

“Maybe I do,” Stiles says back and even though he has trouble talking like this, he cannot suppress the cheeky grin creeping onto his face and, God.

Just the sight of that.

Theo’s heart is beating.

Fast.

“Not that you would really catch much of what’s going on when we do it – what with you going almost crazy every time I say certain things you really like hearing.”

“...like what?” Theo’s voice is dark and hoarse.

And Stiles can hear it loud and clear.

“Like… fuck me. For instance. Or I could turn on my sexy voice and go, _Oh, yeah, please claim me, Theo, master of the universe, claim me and knot me and-_ ,” but the sentence trails off into a long moan.

Theo just buried himself inside of Stiles without a warning and, really, Stiles deserved no better for being such a little shit.

“See,” Stiles forces out in-between thrusts, “That’s – what I’m – talking about.”

“Just shut up and take it,” Theo says, but he’s smiling and, he can tell from the way Stiles’ cheek muscles move, so is he.

Then they’re just fucking.

Theo can’t hold out for long though and his knees almost give out when he comes only a couple of minutes later, breathing out Stiles’ name.

Stiles doesn’t even wait for Theo’s orgasm to fully ebb away.

He has pushed himself up from the hood and taken Theo’s hand and then he’s already urging him away from the car, pulling him deeper into she moonshade of the woods, not even caring that the ground is full of sticky and crawly things, wet and dirty and kind of icky.

Apparently nothing could get Stiles to do it in Theo’s car again, but _he’s so fucking turned on_.

He needs to come so desperately, but even more importantly, he seems to want to feel Theo forcing himself into him first.

And not only feel – see him, too, because he’s pulling Theo down by a large tree trunk now, where the ground is still muddy but also kind of mossy.

Theo almost collapses on top of Stiles because Stiles pulls at his hand hard, urging him to join him down on the ground and, quite frankly, Theo is still not back to his old strength and he is weakened from his orgasm.

But Stiles’ hunger is so delicious.

He is looking up at him with a pleading look in these eyes and breathes out, “Do it again, _please_.”

“Do what,” Theo whispers back. Oh yeah, of course he can be a little shit, too.

But it’s more than that.

He really needs to hear Stiles say it.

“Knot me – I want to _feel_ it.”

The words almost take Theo’s breath away. He’s kneeling over Stiles know, eyes flicking down at Stiles boner and then up at his face again, both of their hearts beating so fast.

“Only if you admit that this isn’t about getting back at _him_ anymore.”

“It isn’t,” Stiles simply says, “And you already knew that.”

“I did,” Theo says and he’s smiling down at Stiles gently now, calmer, more in control. Like he can finally be sure that, maybe, possibly, no one will take Stiles away from him again. Because he might really be able to get Stiles to not _want_ to be taken away from Theo.

He lowers himself down to kiss him and Stiles not only allows it. He wraps his hands around Theo’s neck, fists them into his blonde hair.

“I can’t promise anything,” he breathes into Theo’s ear. “I need – it still hurts so much.”

“I know,” Theo says back, “That’s fine. I never wanted you to do anything for me. To be anything but yourself.”

“...I know,” Stiles whispers.

Theo halts to lower Stiles back on the ground, but not completely, he keeps his arms around his back as if to shield him from bugs and rotting leaves.

Positions himself at Stiles entrance, and Stiles spreads his feet wide for him.

“But I’ve needed _you_ – a couple of times now,” Stiles mutters, and he’s not looking up at Theo anymore. He has closed his eyes. Theo is stroking his penis.

“Oh, you misunderstood me, Stiles. I fucking need you-,” but stops because, how put words to – to all of _this_?

“Always,” and his voice is shaking, he can’t get it to work right anymore all of a sudden, “Like the fucking _air_ I’m breathing, okay? So just – just shut up and take my fucking knot.”

He can see Stiles grin up at him with closed eyes.

“Sure. Whatever you want, Theo.”

And Theo thrusts into him.

The thing is, he’s so worked up that his movement is frantic, and Stiles’ moans soon do the rest. When he feels his knot coming on, he’s worried.

“It’s – I can’t – hold it back – any longer, I’m – I’m sorry-”

“Claim me,” Stiles breathes out, then moans because Theo just hit the right spot.

“Please, Theo, _please_...”

The fact that Stiles is actually begging for something Theo has had to hold back from forcing on him for months now – the thought of raping Stiles might have crossed his mind more than once – is truly hilarious, but Theo is so far gone he can’t even appreciate it.

He makes a sound that’s in-between a moan and a snarl because he’s right on the edge again and, just like before, it’s scaring him.

And yet.

He needs it so much.

And not only that.

Stiles needs it, he _craves_ it and that’s probably the reason this, the whole knotting thing, could even be happening in the first place.

A second before Theo’s orgasm hits him – before it starts – his canines drop down and before he knows what he’s doing, they’re already rupturing the skin on Stiles’ shoulder, immediately drawing blood. It’s deep this time, and Theo is holding Stiles’ throat in his claw – the other is still wrapped around Stiles’ back – so he can not only hear, but actually _feel_ Stiles crying out.

It’s a yell of pain, but not completely because Theo is coming hard inside of him now and Stiles is right there with him. Just like last time, the bite did it.

Stiles is throwing his head back into the leaves, writhing under Theo’s grip, under his teeth that are still buried in Stiles’ shoulder and he’s coming. His dick is twitching and shooting hot sperm up at Theo’s naked stomach and Theo keeps riding him, pumping him until Stiles is a shuddering mess. Two minutes later, Stiles is only barely conscious, but Theo is still going on, he can’t help it.

An orgasm with a knot is the absolutely craziest fucking thing ever, and Stiles’ knees are still trembling.

Then, finally, Theo feels capable of slowing down and holy shit. He already pulled his teeth out of Stiles’ shoulder and now he carefully removes his claw from around his throat, too. He can’t retract it right now, can’t shift his hands back to human, it seems to be impossible while he’s still knotting Stiles, but he can carefully lower him down onto the leaves, and this time, okay?

This time he can finally, fully have his way.

They’re locked together and Stiles is panting, breath still hitching in his throat, eyes fluttering half-closed like the wings of a moth. Then Theo is gathering him in and struggles to find a position in which he can fully shield Stiles. Protect him while he is slowly coming to again.

It’s not easy because Stiles is taller than him. But Theo, of course, is stronger.

“Are you in pain?” Theo whispers when Stiles whimpers and shifts in his arms.

“...it’s fine,” Stiles whispers back.

“I wanted this.”

“You did.”

“I think I’m bleeding.”

“You are.”

Stiles’ eyes fly open. He’s looking up at Theo, at his features that are fully human again now.

“You handsome son-of-a-bitch,” Stiles says to him.

Theo’s lips pull into a smirk.

“Just for you, honey.”

Stiles closes his eyes, lets out a chuckle.

“God, just shut up...”

And then he’s silent, just breathing against Theo’s muscular chest. Theo’s knot is going down, he’s already slipping out of Stiles slowly, his claws have disappeared. His fingers are grazing over the wound on Stiles’ shoulder, the bite, and when Theo’s fingertips touch it, Stiles sharply inhales.

But Theo doesn’t stop.

He knows that Stiles wouldn’t want him to right now.

The words do not need to be spoken.

Theo just knows.

That this pain?

To Stiles, it’s both sharp and intimate, so bittersweet, and it’s his alone.

He wouldn’t want to miss out on it. Ever.

 

The world is wide and open in front of him.

**Author's Note:**

> ...as you probably guessed, I haven't gone to American high school, and there's only so much romantic comedies can teach you (and none of these things ever involve chronologies); so, sorry for getting everything wrong about the last week of high school and graduation


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